Unwanted No Longer
by Smarti4Bullies
Summary: Neither had been wanted by the opposite sex. Is it possible that they found it in each other? Just something that I couldn't get out of my head. **Heavily Edited and re-written. Epilogue to come**
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

She didn't know what she was doing there at his door. She had been in bed, failing at sleep, and suddenly she found her feet had a mind of their own. She had no destination in mind when she left, but here she was. She lifted her fist to knock quietly and the door swung open. She hadn't been the only one unable to sleep.

"Brienne of fucking Tarth." He said harshly, but amusement danced in his eyes.

"Bloody Hound." She quipped back. There seemed to be an ease about him since he learned Arya was alive and back home.

He stepped back and opened the door so she could enter. Their cabins were the same. Small and windowless with a sleeping pallet on one side and a small table with 2 chairs on the other. They had not planned to sail back north with John Snow and the others, but it was faster, and they felt the need to back as soon as possible. She looked around his room for a moment. His bed was made. A glass and pitcher of wine on the table. Unlike her, his lack of sleep did not come with trying. He lumbered passed her and sat back down. He motioned for her to sit in the other chair, which she did. They sat in an awkward silence for for a few moments before Brienne spoke.

"You saw the army." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes." He nodded as he spoke. He took a long drink of wine before continuing, "And it is truly massive. And horrifying. Even with everything we have, we probably won't win."

Brienne took a deep breath, her eyes focusing on the wood grain of the table. When she had heard the number at the meeting she feared there was no chance of surviving. The glass had been topped off and slid in front of her- interrupting her study of the wood grain. For the first time in a very long time, she drank. It was much stronger than she was used to as she normally watered her wine down. Nevertheless, she drained the glass while willing herself not to choke on the sour liquid and passed it back. She could feel it burn her throat and heat her stomach as it settled. Sandor filled it and took a drink himself.

"When we dock, you should go to your man at Eastwatch. You may not get another chance." His voice was low. He was looking down into the wine, as if he was seeing something there. He hated to admit that he was jealous of the damn ginger. He had someone to warm his thoughts in the frigid North.

"What are going on about?"

"That fucking ginger wildling." He passed the glass back to her, never looking up.

"The man who looks at me like a lunatic?" She chuckled a bit before drinking more and passing the glass back. There was no chance she could keep up with the pace Sandor was setting.

"Say what you will, you were all he talked about north of wall. Grand ideas of children and conquering the world." His eyes flicked up to her before settling on the glass again.

She stood up and took a few paces away from him. She couldn't go very far in the small cabin which was a good thing as her head was already cloudy from the wine. Her brow was furrowed and her jaw was clenched, though he couldn't see that with her back to him. "Why would you say such things?"

"Why not?"

"Are you mocking me? Is this really how you think we should prepare for war, with insults?" She never turned to look at him. She feared he might see the hurt in her eyes. She had dealt with this all her life, but she hadn't thought she would find such torment here and her guard had been lowered by the wine..

"I am not doing any of those things." He said as he moved behind her. His eyes swept the length of her legs to the hem of her tunic. He had been more than pleasantly surprised when she had shown up barely dressed, though he was certain she hadn't meant anything by it. Still, he had never imagined she would look so good under all of that armor.

"You must be. No man has wanted me like that. All of my life that has been made perfectly clear." Her voice was quiet. She turned back to look at him. He was much closer to her than she had expected. His grey eyes were dark and his breathing uneven. _What in seven hells was that look in his eyes?_

At that moment, she realized in her restlessness she hadn't put on any clothes. She was only in her tunic, which fortunately was long enough to cover half of her thighs. Unfortunately, she had removed the linen wrap she used to bind her chest under her armor and she was certain now that he could see her meager breasts through the cloth. What had she been thinking? Her heart sped up and her breathing began to match his as she watched him watch her. She felt a strange warmth in the pit of her stomach and something she hadn't quite felt before.

Sandor noticed all of these things. He stepped towards her and she stepped back, but it only took two more paces before her back bumped the wall. He took one more step. He was incredibly close to her. Their bodies had a mere sliver of space between them. He knew he was taking a risk. Not only had she nearly killed him before, but she was highborn and he was far below the likes of her.

"I can't believe no one has wanted you like that." He whispered close to her ear. Then, he closed the gap between them. His lips settled gently on hers. His left hand fell to the wall beside her head for balance and his right rested on her hip. She didn't know what to do. She was completely frozen. She cursed herself for being so awkward. _Respond dammit_.

He broke the connection and looked at her. Her blue eyes were wide and almost as dark as his. Her breathing was erratic and harsh. Was that _desire_ in her eyes? He had never been looked at like that before so he wasn't sure. It likely wasn't. She had yet to give any indication that his advance was welcome.

"I am sorry, I shouldn't have done that." He had taken her lack of response as rejection.

"No." She said with heavy breaths. Maybe it was the wine. Or maybe it was impending doom, but she was going to let herself feel tonight. She was terrified- it was ridiculous. She was going to face certain death with more courage than she did when it came to bedding a man. "Do it again."

He smiled before his lips landed on hesr once again. This time, she kissed him back, as unfamiliar as it was. One of her hands held onto his shoulder while the other ran up the scar on his face. She accidentally nipped his bottom lip. A low growl rumbled from him and his tongue ran across her lips. She hesitated for a moment, not quite sure what he was wanting, but as soon as she parted her lips she had her answer as his tongue invaded her mouth. His hand moved from the wall to the back of her neck to move her head as he wished and the one on her hip pulled her flush against him. She moaned softly into his mouth. The moment seemed so surreal. She hadn't imagined anything like this would happen to her. The passion felt real. It was so different than the boys in Renly's camp. The ones that flattered her and stole a kiss here and there before she learned the true intentions. She briefly wondered if there could still be a pot of dragons waiting for Sandor.

His hand left her hip and traveled down her leg; light pressure drew her leg up from the floor and he rested her knee around his hip. She was so vulnerable in that position, but pushed the thought away- she wanted this. She had never realized how badly she wanted this to feel this way until that moment. She felt his fingers sliding up her bare thigh and she shivered. His mouth left hers to ravage her neck, his beard scratching against her skin. Her breath was coming in ragged pants. The fingers that had rested on the back of her neck were traveling now as well. Across her throat and down her chest. They grazed her covered breast, down her stomach and to her thigh where it finally found the hem of her tunic. Then his fingers snaked their way back up, only this time they were under the fabric. They brushed her stomach, her taught muscles tightened under his touch and goosebumps broke out across her flesh. His hand cupped her small breast and his thumb flicked across her nipple. It was already a small stone peak on the tip of her muscular, yet soft, breast. He rolled it gently between his finger and thumb.

Her head rolled back against the wood as a sigh escaped her throat. She felt she should be doing something. This was feeling very one-sided, but she didn't know what to do so she kept herself out of the way. The hand on her thigh had grown bolder. He was caressing her inner thigh, so close to her center. He could feel heat radiating from her. He pulled the strings on her small clothes until they gave way and fell from her hips. She gasped and arched into him when he slid a finger through her folds. Her entire body felt the sparks when he touched her where no one had ever been. She shouldn't be letting him touch her _there,_ the only part of her that was a Lady rang in her mind. _You're not a Lady_ , reminded herself, _You're a soldier_. Sandor made a low, guttural groan at how wet she was. He couldn't remember feeling anything more wonderful and it was all for him. Not for his coin, just him as a man. He had never been wanted in such a way either.

Then a dark voice whispered in his head, " _You don't deserve her, Dog."_

Suddenly, he pulled back from her, his hands and lips leaving her body, "We can't do this" He panted. His eyes had closed in shame as he pulled away from her, but he forced himself to open them and look at her. She was flushed and breathing heavily. Gods he wanted to take her. He wanted to slam her into the wall, push himself into her, and fuck her until they forgot why they were sailing north. But he didn't deserve her. The voice was right. She must know that.

She stood in shock for half a moment before her leg unwrapped from his hip and sank to the ground. Her eyes turned from desire to disgust. It _had_ all been a mockery. Just like any man who flattered her, he couldn't keep it up. She was too grotesque for him to get any further- gold dragons or cruel jape- he couldn't go through with it. Why had she allowed herself to be so vulnerable to him? How could she have allowed him to touch her and open her up like that? Everyone who had called her slow or stupid was right. Would she never learn? She dropped her eyes from his. She didn't want him to see through the wall that was faltering once again in her mind.

He had been watching the gears in her mind and tried to read just what she was thinking. Did she understand why he pulled away? Was she coming to her senses and realizing that he was right? When she looked away from him, he realized that she did not understand what he meant- she thought it was her. Mayhaps he should have considered that. Had it not been for her voice that day he may not have known she was a woman. He knew better than most the cruelty that those deemed ugly faced in this world.

"I understand," She said in a quiet voice as she pushed passed him and headed for the door.

"Brienne..." He had to stop her.

"Just let me leave." She said as she reached the door.

"Brienne!" He said more desperately as he threw his hand on the door to keep it closed. His body was flush against her back. She had to understand. "It is not you."

She scoffed. Tears burned at her eyes again. She would not let them loose. _Brienne the Beauty_ rang in her head.

"How can you want me? If you knew the things I have done... My face isn't the only thing about me that is ugly. You deserve better. Much better than..." His voice trailed for a moment before he spat the last words with utter disgust, "the Hound."

She stared at the wood door. Could he be telling the truth? Was she just being stupid in wanting to believe him? It had not occurred to her that he would feel this way about himself. She had seen the scars, but she had not considered him ugly. She had heard stories of the Hound, but he had fiercely protected Arya even after there was no ransom to be had. How could he feel this way about himself? The same way she felt about herself, that is. Ugly. Unwanted. Undesirable. A never ending joke.

She turned around to face him with astonishment in her features. Before either knew what was happening, her hands were in his beard and her lips were on his.

He pulled back and looked away from her, " Brienne..."

"No. You don't get to decide for me. I want you." His eyes looked to hers. He had never been wanted by a woman before. Even his first time had been with a whore because his face had always turned women away. "Do you want me?"

He smirked and leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "I have wanted to hear you scream when you fuck since that day on the mountain."

A small gasp escaped her and her eyes widened. She felt sparks like lightning all over her body coming to settle between her legs. She couldn't believe what his words had done to her. Her knees almost buckled then and there. Jaime had been right those years ago. She desperately wanted to know what it felt like to be a woman. To have a man strong enough to take her. Just hold her down and rip off her clothes... Suddenly, She needed him... on her... in her... just everywhere at once. She pushed him back slightly and he started thinking his words had been too vulgar for her. That thought left his mind as her tunic left her body and hit the floor. She stood bare before him. She fought the urge to cover herself and goosebumps covered her body. Her eyes met his which were dark and filled with the a similar desperation.

"Then make me scream." Her voice was low and shook as she spoke. The wine was to blame for her boldness, she decided.

He didn't waste a second. His mouth crashed into hers and his body slammed her back against the harsh wood of the door. His hands explored her exposed skin. She was so soft against his rough, calloused hands. Brienne pulled his shirt over his head, their lips parted for a split second to let the garment pass. Her hands slowly slid down his chest, her nails scraping against his skin as they moved. Her mouth left his again, though this time to do some exploring of their own. His head moved to the side to grant her more access and his hands caressed her breasts. She kissed along his cheek and down his neck, the feeling of his pulse racing beneath her lips gave her courage. Her hands were still moving lower until they hit the top of his breeches. She began to fumble with the laces. Her fingers were shaking so badly that they were barely useful. She wasn't even sure what she was going to do when she had him completely naked. She had never touched a man to pleasure him before. She didn't have time to think about it as her fingers finished their work and his breeches fell to the floor.

It was like he had read her mind or felt her hesitation. He grasped her hand and wrapped it around his cock. It was hot, and hard, and throbbing. He was larger than she had thought he would be- though she had rarely seen any man's member at full attention. He laid his arm on the wall beside her and rested his forehead on it. She set her head on his shoulder and watched as he moved her hand up and down along the shaft, showing her what to do for him. Once she was moving on her own accord, his hand went back to rest on her hip. Her mouth sought his again and her tongue pressed him this time. He gladly accepted her. He knew, however, that he was not going to last very long. It had been such a long time since he had been with a woman and true desire was so much more powerful than just needing release. Especially at the hands of a whore. They knew how to get a man off, but not how to make a man like him feel wanted. He pulled her hand away and spun her around to back her to the bed.

"Lie down." He commanded. She obeyed.

She wasn't sure how to position herself on the bed, so she simply rested her head on the pillow at the top of the bed and watched as he stood at the foot. She could see all of him now. Her breath went shallow as she took in the sight of him in all his glory. His chest and abdomen were littered with scars among his dark hair. All the battles he had survived. She wondered if any had been left by her. She had never felt desire like this before. He couldn't shake the look she was giving him- as though she liked what she saw. As a much younger man he had paid for whores, but the look in their eyes and the knowledge that they were only with him because he had paid them made him stop. He was revolting to them. So, he used that to become a better killer and learned to relish in the blood on his hands instead. But now, Brienne looked at him in a way he never thought a woman would look at him.

He bent down and started to caress her legs. She had never experienced tenderness before and she had never needed it. Coming from him, she found that she craved it. She was also surprised at the gentleness _he_ was capable of when he was also capable of fierce brutality. He kissed her as he moved, spreading her legs as he went... ankles, calves, knees, thighs... His tongue was scorching on her skin. He spent extra time on her inner thighs- teasing her with open mouthed kisses that caused her to writhe in anticipation- though she didn't know what. When he looked up at her she was watching him between her legs and blushing a deep red. He smirked and moved to her mound of blond curls. He kissed her gently before his tongue parted her. She was wet and ready and wanting. She let a small cry escape her lips and her body shivered. She had never felt anything like it before. He moved to her tiny bundle of nerves and flicked his tongue against her. Her hips bucked into him and he put his hands on her hips to steady her before he continued. He licked at her and he was rewarded with tiny moans and sounds of pleasure. In turn, he rewarded her. He sucked the bundle into his mouth. The pressure was amazing. A much louder cry ripped from her and her back arched. His cock jumped at the sound. If he wasn't careful, he was going to cum before he even got inside her. Is that what getting older does to a man? He didn't like it one bit.

He released the nub and moved up her body- kissing and licking and sucking her stomach, her breasts, and her neck before settling his mouth on hers again. She reached up to cup her hands around neck. She tasted something new on his lips and she realized it was _her._ She knew that should have made her recoil, but she found it aroused her even more. He was now positioned at her entrance- her wet heat was beckoning him forward. Her head spun as the head of his cock nestled between her legs. This was really happening.

"Are you sure you have never?" He stopped an looked down at her. She had said she hadn't been wanted, but she was beautiful. He couldn't be the only one to see it as the wildling wanted her too. Could she really want him to be her first? Surely there were better men...

"Been with a man?" She asked back with amusement, "I am fairly certain I would remember. I won't bleed though." She blushed as she said it.

He looked at her with a question he couldn't quite voice.

"A well placed kick on a mountain took care of that." She whispered.

He closed his eyes. She could see guilt and shame cross his features. He even pulled back from her. She had meant it to be taken lightly. After-all, she wasn't upset by it. She even found it to be a bit appropriate- he took her maidenhead physically in battle and now he would in truth.

"No, no... Sandor," her hands moved up to cradle his face, "Stay here with me. Come back out of your head. Please."

With her plea, she pushed her hips up and slid her wet core along his cock. _Gods, where was this coming from?_ With a growl, he opened his eyes and re positioned to slowly push into her. She gasped and he heard 'oh gods' escape her lips while she pulled him down against her. Her face pressed into his. He groaned into the pillow next to her. He whispered how fucking tight she was in her ear as he started rocking against her. Not too much at first- just enough to acclimate to each other. She relished the sensation of being so filled by him. She wondered if this was real or some cruel dream. She decided it didn't matter, as long as she didn't wake up. She started slowly rocking with him.

Soon, though, their movements were more hurried. He had pushed his torso off of her so he could watch her beneath him. He was pulling all the way out just to thrust back into her. Brienne felt herself slide against the furs beneath her so she moved her hands above her head and against the wall to brace her body. She found that this gave her hips the ability to match him thrust for thrust. Her hips lifted off the bed to push him deeper into her with every thrust. She was moaning so loudly- mixed with his name leaving her lips and pleas for more. He shouldn't be surprised. He had been with her in combat and she was not the kind of woman to passively participate in anything, regardless of her inexperience. He could feel her tightening around him, her walls pulsing against him. She was quickly approaching her climax. Thank the gods because so was he. He leaned forward and nipped at he skin on her breast, just above the nipple. He soothed it with his tongue, just to do it again. He aimed to mark her. He only desired to do so where she would be covered at all times. His mark and their secret. He bit down a third time, much harder than before. She arched into him and she cried out; part from pain, part from pleasure. His right hand slid between them and started circling that little nub that felt so good. This elicited a glorious sound. Something between a scream and roar. He sucked the skin on her breast as this fingers worked at her nub. Her senses were exploding. The pressure was beginning to be more that she could take. She kept one hand on the wall for leverage while the other clung to his shoulder to ground her. She felt like the world was spinning, but she wasn't ready to give up her leverage quite yet. She could feel herself losing control, however, and that arm made her feel like she was falling. Suddenly, something let loose inside her and she had to grasp him with both hands. Her nails left shallow grooves across his shoulders. Her body arched and a glorious scream left her lips. Her body shivered and her hips jerked against his. He rocked with her slowly, keeping himself sheathed inside her as he fell with her.

The sound would have been enough to send Sandor over the edge- it was such a primal and wanton sound. However, combined with the sight of her coming undone beneath him and how tight her walls clenched him- he was lost. His body shuddered and as he spilled into her with a feral sound she had never head before. He really hadn't meant to let himself go inside of her, but he hadn't been able to pull away. She was breathing heavily, her sweet mouth open. He leaned down to join their lips; his tongue entering her already open mouth. She eagerly joined in the kiss, hips still rolling together slowly as they both rode down their high. When he had gone limp, he rolled to lay beside her. They laid there in silence for several minutes before Brienne sat up and faced away from him. She should leave, right? That is how this went?

"I should go and let you seep..."

"Fucking lay back down." He said softly.

She smiled to herself. He wanted her to stay? She did as he asked and laid back down next to him. He rolled onto his side and draped an arm over her stomach. She was not sure why she didn't feel more uncomfortable lying there naked with him. It was oddly soothing. Like there was peace for that short time. She knew better, of course. Wars were coming. More battles and death than she cared to think about, but for this night...

Sandor's breath was slow and quiet in her ear. She wondered if he might be asleep when he said, "I'm not looking forward to this war. We can burn the fuckers. The Stranger knows I hate fire. The thrice damned dragons, spewing the shit everywhere. And burning our own dead as soon as they drop lest we see their eyes turn to ice..."

She felt him shudder. She didn't know what to say. She was afraid- though she would never admit it. Instead, she chanced a different statement, "If only the sun wouldn't rise- then we could just stay in this bed."

He smiled, "If we are to stay in bed forever, it had better be a more comfortable bed."

She laughed, "Awe, did you get too used to feather beds and silks in Kings Landing?"

"You can't tell me that you don't miss it." He smiled broadly at her quip.

"Now, I never said that." She said feigning innocence.

He snorted at her, but said nothing. He absentmindedly nuzzled his head closer to hers.

"How did you get these?" He asked as he kissed the ragged scars on her shoulder. He had felt them on her neck earlier, but he didn't want to ask and break whatever spell she was under.

"It is a very long story, but they are from a bear."

"A Bear?!" He laughed. "You'll fight anything, won't you?"

She hoped to say something clever, but nothing came to mind. They went silent again. Their eyes closed and rest came for them. Neither was actually asleep, but their minds were quiet and they were just enjoying the moment together. To each of them, they found a surreal comfort in each other that they hadn't experienced before. However, too much silence allows minds to think about all of the things that they would rather escape.

"When we dock..." Brienne began to say when Sandor finished her thought.

"This can't come with us." He knew it too.

"We have people to protect. We have battles to fight. We can't be distracted. No matter how glorious the distraction was."

"I know. And it was." He smiled softly, but it quickly left his features. "Also, if you decide that you to want the ginger man- if all he is offering is what you decide you want- I will understand if you lie about this night. If you tell him he's the first. I won't say anything if you want to forget this ever happened."

There was sadness in his voice. She had not ever imagined that he would feel so low about himself after what they had shared. "Stop. That isn't going to happen."

"You say that now, but when the war is over you may change your mind. Children may be something you want. You are still young. You may want a different life. A life I couldn't give you."

"I will not lie about this night. I don't want to forget." She rolled onto her side to face him and slid her hand from her side of the pillow to his, her hand gently stroking his face. "It happened. And the sun hasn't risen yet."

Her free hand slipped between their bodies to stroke his manhood. He was limp at rest, but quickly began to come to life in her hand. It excited her that she could do that to him with such a small touch. She lifted her top leg over his hip, opening herself up to him again. Their lips met in a lazy kiss. When he had grown hard, she lined him up with her and he entered her slowly. He wrapped his arms around her to pull her close. Their tongues danced together while their hips rocked against each other slowly. They set a steady pace and moved fluidly together. Nothing about this was hurried. This time was slow, lazy, and both were content to take their time. Last time they had both been chasing pleasure with everything they had. Now, they were content to simply be wrapped up in each other.

So wrapped up they stayed. They had no idea if it had been minutes or an hour by the time the pressure started to build. It didn't matter. They were happy there. They felt whole there.

Their movements began to lose fluidity. Tiny bucks and jerks invading the steady rhythm and they approached release. Their mouths had to separate so they could breath, leaving only their foreheads touching. He was pumping into her harder now and like before, she matched him. Her leg tightened on his hip. Without his mouth to drown her sounds, her voice echoed around the tiny room. He let himself wonder who would hear her tonight. It seemed like an eternity before her walls tightened around him again. That incredible pressure and her loud moans in his ear told him she was there. He pumped into her a few more times before he pulled out swiftly, using his hand to finish himself off on the bed between them.

"What are doing?" She was breathing heavily and he could hear disappointment in her tone.

"What I should have done the first time." His voice was choppy as the last of him spurted out. She wasn't following his logic. He looked to her questioning face, "You don't need any more risk of me putting a baby in your belly."

"I hadn't even thought about that." Her eyes widened. She was suddenly more aware of the risks she was taking that night. How could that have escaped her? She understood how that all worked and yet it hadn't even crossed her mind. She had been so full of desire that she hadn't even cared. While she was glad he had not wanted her to wear the consequences, she almost wished he hadn't because now she was more worried than she wanted to be.

"Hey," he sought her eyes with his, "It'll be okay."

She nodded at him. She curled into him and his arm pulled her close. They fell asleep like that.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Brienne stirred awake upon hearing movement above her. She was immediately alerted to the fact that last night had not been a dream by the warm breath on her neck and the arm around her naked chest. She had turned in the night, leaving Sandor to curl himself around her back. His arm was over her ribs and rested across her chest. She looked toward the roof of the cabin. They were docking, she knew. She felt a pang of sadness. She didn't want this to be over. It had felt so good to be with him. What if she never had this again? He stirred behind her, his back arching as he stretched. She was surprised to feel his manhood hard and full and pressing into her backside. He noticed that she froze when he had inadvertently pressed into her.

"Sorry." His voice was low and heavy with sleep. "The little commanders start the mornings at attention."

She had known that, but the way he said it sounded so funny she had to laugh. "Aiming to start the morning right, I suspect." She rolled onto her back to see him.

"Exactly." He smiled and kissed her. Her hand tangled in his hair as her tongue did with his.

She broke away slightly to look at him, her hand still tangled in his hair, "We are docking."

"We don't have to leave this room yet."

"I don't want to leave this room yet." She kissed him softly before pulling back and adding, "I want to feel you one last time."

He groaned and ground his cock against her thigh. He wanted that too. He wanted to feel wanted as it may not happen again. All it took was a tug on his arm for him to roll on top of her. His hand snaked down to her center. Gods, she was already wet. Had she been dreaming of him to be so ready already? He ran a finger through her folds until he reached her opening and slid his finger into her. She gasped and her hips jerked. He slid a second finger in and stroked her from the inside. She began rolling her hips shamelessly against his hand. Her nails raked against his skin, from his hips up to his shoulders where they dug in. He knew they didn't have time to do all the things he wanted to do to her. If only they hadn't slept... He removed his fingers and plunged his cock deep in her in one smooth movement. She cried out in surprise, but continued moving with him.

Suddenly there was a knock on his door. "Clegane!" Tyrion's voice came through the door.

He growled into her neck before sitting up to bellow, "What?" He never stopped pumping into her. Her hand covered her mouth and she bit into the flesh to stop herself from making any sound.

"We have docked. Jon is waiting for you to ride to Eastwatch."

"Tell him I will be there soon enough. Now go away."

"Of course. And please, don't wear Brienne out. She has a long ride as well."

Her eyes flew open and met his. She was back thinking about the risks she took. What if the Starks felt this would limit her ability to serve them? What if he planted a child inside her? And with winter here? Sandor leaned back down and kissed her ear before whispering, "Hey, stay here with me. Get out of your head."

She smiled at him. He had used her own words against her. She did her best to get back into the moment. It was too late to go back, so all she could do was enjoy what they had right now. She kissed him and thrust her hips against him. He had dropped himself back down to her chest. Her arms held him close. They had even less time now. He moved his hand back down to where they were joined and used him thumb to massage that little nub of nerves. She was trying to be quiet, but sounds of pleasure escaped her anyway. His mouth went back on hers to swallow every sound that escaped. Neither wanted to be interrupted again by some moron who may be walking the halls. He could feel her coming close to release. He wanted to sit up and watch her, but he stayed where he was, smothering the sounds she made. She tightened around him and writhed against him. He didn't want to leave her body, but he was peaking as well. He pulled out of her and, to his surprise, her hand joined his for the final strokes to his release. He spilled himself on her stomach. It had felt even better with her hand on him. They just laid together for a few moments. Neither wanted to leave this ship. So much awaited them once they stepped on dry land and they may never find each other again.

"Come on." He said as he climbed off of her. "No point putting off the inevitable." He grabbed a rag out of the basin on a shelf and handed it to her.

"Right." She nodded and and wiped herself off before getting out of bed after him. She found her small-clothes and tunic on the floor and quickly dressed. If you could call it that. She hoped she didn't run into anyone on her way back to her cabin for real clothes. He turned his back to her to pick up his breeches and she used that moment to slip out of the room. If she hadn't left quickly she was sure she would never leave at all. She didn't know why she felt such a loss when she left that room. She quickly padded down the corridor to her cabin. Podrick was standing outside. _Of course_.

"My Lady," He jumped up, "I thought you were in your room."

"Obviously I was not." She opened the door and went inside, leaving the door open. She should have known he would be waiting for her. "Are we ready to go?"

"Yes, My Lady. When you are dressed that is." She shot him a sharp look. She was well aware that she was not dressed to be out of her cabin and she didn't need him reminding her. He seemed almost oblivious to her state of dress, however, and she knew he hadn't intended the statement in such a way. "Where were you anyway?"

"None of your business." She snapped, but she felt a deep blush crept up her cheeks as images flooded her mind.

"Oh." He said as he turned away from her so she could dress. She didn't take long with her clothes, but her armor was more intricate and he stayed to help her.

"Alright. Come here and help." He scuttled over and deftly began working the straps. He was a good lad. She hadn't wanted him for the first year he was with her, but now she rather liked having him around. She sighed as he tightened the straps. "I was with Sandor Clegane."

"The Hound?"

"I don't think he likes that nickname." She smirked, remembering how he had said something similar about the Imp.

"Of course, My Lady. Um... Do you think that was wise?" His voice was concerned.

"Probably not, Pod." She sighed. She truly didn't know if it had been a wise choice, but it had felt right. If only for one night.

He nodded and finished with the straps. "Done."

"Lets go." She started walking away, then stopped in the doorway. "Pod, I would like it if you kept what I told you between us."

"Of course, My Lady."

Once they left the ship, everyone gathered just passed the harbor to ready the horses. It had been agreed that Sandor and Davos would ride to Eastwatch by way of the coast to gather additional fighters and then to Castle Black to bring troops south. The rest of them would head to Winterfell to prepare. Everyone was saddled and ready to depart when Sandor moved his mount over to Brienne.

"Do you plan to tell Arya that I am alive?"

"Yes, I had planned on it."

"I used to be on her list of people to kill, you know."

"She has a list?"

"Oh yes. It used to be a rather long one. She knocked a few off when we were traveling." He laughed at the memories. "I expect she has a much shorter list now."

"I wouldn't doubt it. She can best me, you know?"

He laughed heartily at that. A good, deep laugh. He then went serious again. "Tell her I was really looking after her. I tried looking after Sansa too. I did the best could do."

"I will tell her. I swear it."

With a nod, he kicked his horse forward to meet up with Davos. She felt emptiness when he rode away. They headed north while everyone else set off west, towards the Kingsroad.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jon's traveling party had been back at Winterfell for several days when he showed up. He was tired and worn from the long journey alone. He had made amazing time, but the toll it took was harsh. Brienne had been training with Podrick in the courtyard when he rode through the open gates. At this point, they had so many coming and going that the gates stayed open at all times. She was distracted when she saw him and Pod was able to get a good strike in. She glared at him and walked away.

"Ser Jaime, what are you doing here so soon? Alone?" She asked when she came up to his horse.

"I need to speak to Jon Snow." He looked tired and hungry and he was filthy from travel.

"He is out in the encampment somewhere. Come, you need something to eat and to warm yourself." She looked at his weary and shivering body. He was so numb he didn't even feel it anymore.

He slid off his horse and Podrick took the tired animal to the stable. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

She nodded and led him to her room. It was a small servant's room around the hall from Sansa's. She didn't need much. After all, it was only for sleeping anyway. He dropped onto her bed the moment he was close enough. There was a fire in the small hearth which kept the room pleasantly warm. He hadn't realized how cold he had been until he began to warm up. Everything hurt. His fingers, toes, and ears felt like they were burning as they thawed and the rest of him shivered violently. Brienne stood by the doorway, not sure what to do. He took up most of her bed, and her room didn't have any chairs.

Finally, he sat up. He looked at her and realized he had taken up the only sitting space her room provided. He slid to the foot of the bed to make his presence in her bed less imposing. She took it and sat next to him.

"What happened?" She asked quietly.

"Cersei." He shook his head and looked down to the golden hand in his lap. "She lied. There is no truce. She isn't sending her armies. In fact, Euron Greyjoy isn't going home to Pike, but bringing the Golden Company to take back the South and fight whatever eventually comes from the North."

"Jaime..." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"So here I am." He scoffed at his own statement. "All that came north is a crippled, honorless former knight who will not be of any real help in the war."

"You have honor, Jamie. Why would you be here if you didn't? You swore to be here and here you are."

A tentative knock on the door interrupted them and Pod poked his head in. "I thought Ser Jaime might be hungry." Brienne nodded and Podrick brought in two bowls of stew, bread, and some wine on a tray. He set the tray on the floor near the fire and quickly left the room.

Brienne slid from the bed to the floor and pulled the tray closer. She handed him a bowl and warned him not spill on her bed or she'd have to kill him. He laughed and told her that he could still beat her. She just rolled her eyes and ate her meal. Jaime had finished quickly. It had been his first real meal in weeks. It had been too dangerous to make a fire south of the Neck, and game was too scarce north of it, that he relied on the few things he had brought and scavenging abandoned villages and inns. Brienne took his bowl and saw that he was barely awake.

"Jaime, get some sleep. I have training to attend to. As soon as I see Jon, I will bring him here. Stay put, please."

His only response was a sleepy nod and he scooted up on her bed so he could lie down. By the time Brienne had gathered the dishes and tray, he was snoring softly. She covered him with an extra fur and left the room.

The sun had gone down by the time Brienne came back to the room. The fire was still aglow and warm. She had instructed Podrick to keep it going. Jon was with her. Jaime was still asleep. He had made the trip in less than a fortnight, and that must have come with very little rest. They had moved a few people around and given him a bunk with Podrick. It may not be ideal, but there was no love for the man here and at least no one would worry about Pod killing Jaime while he slept.

"Ser Jaime..." Brienne said softly as she shook his shoulder. He stirred, but didn't awaken so she shook him again and spoke louder, "Ser Jaime, wake up."

Though he knew the voice, he startled and jerked away as he opened his eyes. His eyes adjusted to the firelight. "Brienne?"

"And Jon." She informed him before he could say something stupid.

Jaime nodded and sat up. He knew he should be more put together, more respectful, but he was still fighting off sleep. The most he could muster was to bow his head and croak, "Your Grace."

"Lady Brienne tells me you have ill news." He didn't seem to mind the lack of formalities.

"Yes." He said simply before launching into his story. "My sister lied to you. She lied to me. She lied to everyone. I was planning the journey north with my commanders when she informed me that she had no intention of sending anyone. She had only said what she needed to at the time. She intends to take back the lands Daenerys has won while she is here fighting the dead. She also plotted with Euron Greyjoy to say he was going home to survive this, but he is actually ferrying the Golden Company over to be part of her army. She intends to fight the dead or you and the Dragon Queen- whichever survives and comes south."

"Sansa did tell me not to trust her." Jon said ruefully.

"I swore a vow to fight in the great war. I know I am not enough. I know I am not what was promised. I know I am far from adequate, but I am here if you will have me."

"I don't trust you nor do I like you." Jon looked at the man sitting before him and Jaime looked back down at his hand, "But we need all the help we can get. Yesterday's wars don't matter. Only living matters."

"Your Grace, I am yours to command."

"For now, I command you reside with Podrick and give Lady Brienne her bed back." He smiled at his own lame jape and turned towards the door. "I can show you the way. I would also like you to break your fast in your room so I can inform everyone of your presence."

He stood slowly and followed Jon out of the room. Brienne was more fatigued that she had realized. She quickly rid herself of her armor and climbed into bed. The day had been far more interesting than normal. She quickly fell asleep.

The next morning arrived with a fresh layer of snow. Brienne awoke early and decided to break her fast with Jaime. She brought a tray of food to the room he and Podrick were sharing. She was not surprised to find Jaime wide awake and Pod dead to the world.

"Oh, finally!" He leapt up and took the tray from her. "I have been awake for hours with nothing to eat and nothing to do."

"I had figured. You slept most of the day yesterday." She sat next to him on his cot and took her bowl. Winter had hit the North long before it had hit Kings Landing. So the food was already fairly bland and very rationed. He couldn't help but wonder how useful all of the harvest from the Reach would have been up here if the dragon had not burned it. It didn't matter. Had it not been burned it would have been locked up in the Red Keep's stores.

Jaime and Brienne ate in silence. He looked at her often, which unnerved her. Soon, she could take no more, "What are you looking at?"

"You're different."

"Excuse me?"

"I can't put my finger on it, but something has changed about you."

"Well, I now have a good idea that we may all die and become mindless dead soldiers in the Night King's army..." Her words were laced with sarcasm.

"Yes, we all are now, but that isn't it." He looked at her a bit more.

She cleared her throat and looked away from his intense gaze, "I don't know, then."

"Something happened between Kings Landing and now, because I didn't see anything different then. Short of the whole 'fuck loyalty' bit. That was new. " He smirked. He was still staring at her. He noticed that she had stilled and her breathing faltered though she tried to remain neutral.

How could he possibly see a difference? She tried to steady herself. She looked at Pod. He was still snoring. She fidgeted with her bowl, no longer hungry. While she was contemplating telling him, though it was none of his business, he began to worry. Had something dreadful happened on their journey back? Had she heard bad news from Tarth? Was her father alright?

"Brienne, I was simply curious at first, but now you have me worried. Are you alright? Did something happen?"

She smiled a little and let out a deep breath. Jaime just knew her too well. He was the only person who truly knew her. "I am no longer the _Maid_ of Tarth." She blushed deeply. She could feel his eyes boring into her and she looked at him with a shy smile.

"That is a big change." He took a moment to wrap his head around it before getting back to his usual japing self. " Was it everything you dreamed it would be?"

He said the last part so whimsically that she knew he chiding her. She didn't care. Pod and Tyrion were the only ones who knew and she didn't really want to talk to them, but she wanted to have _someone_ to talk to. "It was amazing."

Jaime laughed quietly, so not to wake Pod. "Well, good for you Lady Brienne." She rolled her eyes, but there was a still smile on her lips.

"I just don't know where to go from here." She admitted. She had so many thoughts and questions, but no one to actually speak with. The one person who could answer them wasn't there. She hadn't wanted to drag Jaime into it. He was still reeling from leaving Cersei. He was, however, her only friend.

"Well, ideally you repeat it every night and often during the day." He smiled at her broadly.

"He isn't here. And that really isn't what I mean." She felt a blush creep up her face and she looked away. She hated feeling so vulnerable, even if it was in front of Jaime.

"I knew what you meant. Will he be returning?"

"He is supposed to, but there is always a chance he won't. We are going to war and winter is here and even more harsh towards the wall..." She trailed off. No, he was hard to kill. He would come back. Unless he chose not to.

"Look, I have loved the same woman my entire life. I don't really know where you go from here. I suppose it comes down to how you feel about him and how he feels about you."

"We don't even know each other, not really." She admitted. "I know I want to be with him again, and only him. I don't feel this way about anyone else. Outside of that... I don't know."

He smiled at her. It was like she had drifted out of herself for a moment. It was nice to see hear this way. He had only seen it once before when he gave her Oathkeeper and her armor. "When he comes back, all you need to do is allow yourself to do what feels right. Fuck the rest of them."

"Of course that is your advice." She shook her head. "I have to get to the yard, training doesn't take a break." She stood and hit Podrick with the tray. He jumped out of bed and scrambled to pull his boots on.

"You are cruel, My Lady." Jaime laughed as he spoke.

"The dead will not wait for us to be well rested." She replied and strode out of the room with Pod on her heels.

"I'll, ugh... wait here for Jon to tell me I can come out." He called after her before being left alone with silence.

Jaime emerged into the courtyard a few hours later, after Jon informed him that he would train some of the newer soldiers- mainly those who were stronger with their left hand. He was able to look around now. Winterfell was a very different place than it had been. Troops were camped inside and outside the walls. The banners had all been assembled. Anyone able to fight was there. Some had already begun training while some were learning for the first time. Others had fought with Robb before his fall at the red wedding. Anyone unable to fight was being sent to the small islands of the north and some were sent across the narrow sea.

Brienne was training with troops who had fought with Robb. Arya was giving Pod a hard time despite going too easy on him. New soldiers had been broken up into groups to train with different armies to gain as much skill as possible before they had to fight. These people were not meant to be just bodies on the field. They were not meant to be there to just die. This was especially true as dying meant rising again to join the enemy army. Jaime made his way to where Brienne was, but a commotion near the gate interrupted anything that was about to be said.

A group of riders was hurrying to the gates. Some were leading horses pulling makeshift sleds to carry wounded men. Davos was riding a horse near the front of the the group. Brienne's breath caught in her throat. She searched the small group for a familiar face. She released the breath she hadn't even realized she was holding when she saw him. Jaime noticed and followed her gaze.

"The Hound? Really?" She finally noticed that he was out there.

"Now is not the time. Podrick," Brienne looked to the boy, "Get Jon and Sam and bring any Maester residing here."

"Yes My Lady." He ran to find them.

"What is it?" Arya had quietly moved next to her.

"I don't know, but they are bringing wounded back. And there hasn't been enough time to have made it to Eastwatch let alone back."

"You sure they are wounded and not dead?"

Sandor's fears played through her mind, "They would have burned the dead."

By the time Sandor and the others reached the inner courtyard near the stables, Jon and Sam were striding toward them and the Maester was hurrying along. Jon said something to Sam that Brienne couldn't hear and then he walked away. Sam and the others started working on the wounded. Brienne went to where Sandor was standing with his horse. Arya silently followed, but Jaime stayed where he was. As she got closer, Brienne could see these were all wildlings, those who had been at Eastwatch. In one of the sleds, she saw Tormund's fiery hair. She didn't have feelings for him, but she was quite relieved that he wasn't dead.

"What happened?" Brienne asked softly when she got close to him.

"Bad news," Sandor had felt her eyes on him before they reached the gate. "The eastern side of the wall is gone. The Night King rides the dragon we lost North of the wall. We ran into the survivors just north of the Dreadfort."

"That means the army is already here." This was not the news Brienne had hoped for. She had thought they had more time. And forces from the south would not be coming. "Did you see them?"

"I don't think we would have made it back here if we had run into them." He finished what he was doing and turned to her. He hadn't noticed Arya until then. She looked so different from the last time he had seen her. "Arya, I am pleased to see you alive."

"You as well. The last time I saw you, well, things didn't look very good."

"And you forgot where the heart was."

"I did not forget where the heart is. I just didn't didn't want you dead anymore."

"I am honored. I heard my name at the end of that damned list every night for most of our travels."

"A girl can change her mind." She smirked at him.

"You two catch up." She turned and walked away from the pair. She had been lost in her mind since she heard the news. The dead could be here any day, they were no longer held back by the wall. She had to get the girls to safety. She had to protect them. That was still her oath. She couldn't do that without Jon's help.

She quickly found Jon in the Great Hall with Sansa, Daenerys and several banner-men and commanders. She stood to the back while they spoke. Mostly, she concluded that they were trying to find a way to take down the turned dragon. He could be their undoing. She really couldn't focus on what they were saying, however. Finally, they broke apart, sent to spread the word to the fighting men who waited in and around the fortress of Winterfell.

"Your Grace," Brienne spoke up before he left the room, "may I have a word with you?"

"Of course," He continued walking, "Can you walk with me?"

She nodded and fell into step beside him. "The wall no longer holds the army."

"I know. Bran saw it happen." He had known? He knew long before Sandor and the others came through the gates.

"How long have you known? When did it fall?" Brienne knew better than to speak to him so brashly, but she was angry. He had kept this to himself, or at least just between very few people. This meeting hadn't been about what happened, but about getting word to the troops before gossip did it for them. She was angry that she had not been one of those people who had known. She was his sisters' protector, after all.

"Lady Brienne, we have been watching the movements of the Night King very closely. The are heading to Castle Black. I sent a raven to bring everyone down from the wall. Upon hearing the news when we arrived, I had hoped this day would come- bringing us the survivors from Eastwatch. They can be mended and soon we will all be forming up to march. I know it is hard to have things kept from you, but we couldn't risk the news spreading. It would only cause panic and distraction."

Brienne nodded. She understood that. "I understand. In return for the slight, however, I expect your support in the matter regarding your sisters." She knew she was on dangerous ground. One should not speak that way to a King.

"What are you talking about?"

"That dragon took down a 700 foot tall wall. Do you really think Winterfell can withstand that? I want to send Sansa and Arya to Tarth. They will be safe there, but we have to hurry. Ships from the north won't be able to sail much longer and as winter worsens Shipbreaker Bay would rip a ship apart. We win and they can come home and if we fail... At least they will be alive."

"They aren't going to want to go."

"I know. That is why I need you. They have to go. While Arya is a very skilled fighter, Sansa would not survive. Send them together and Sansa still has someone to protect her. The Starks can live on in some capacity. You have to make them go. It cannot be a choice."

"And you?"

"What of me?"

"Will you be going to Tarth as well? Going home?"

"No. I will remain here."

"You are sworn to my sisters..."

"Yes. They will be safe in Tarth. They will have no need for me there. I will still fight in the war to come- for them to have a future to come home to..."

Jon sighed, "Send a rider to White Harbor to secure a ship. I will tell them that they leave in three days. That should give everyone enough time to prepare."

"Thank you." She was overcome with relief. She was sure he would put up more of a fight, but he must have realized that it was their best option. After all, most families were doing the same thing.

It was well into the night when Brienne walked the stony corridor to her room. She had been working with the soldiers on maneuvering at night. It was tiring work and it had been a difficult day. Before she reached her door, a hand reached out and pulled her into another darkened corridor. So much for all their night training... She was caught completely off-guard. She immediately flew into fight mode.

"Easy, easy..." A familiar voice said with amusement.

"Gods Sandor!" She let out a deep breath and rested her back against the cold wall. "You are lucky I didn't kill you."

"I had to take my chances." He said quietly as he moved closer to her and his lips claimed hers.

She whimpered into him and her hand found the back of his neck. She had missed him so much more than she imagined she could. She wasn't sure what was worse, never having been with a man and simply imagining what she didn't have or having been with him and knowing exactly what she was missing. She began to feel hot despite the snow and ice all around them. She could never have imagined how lost she could get in another person.

"Sandor," She finally got her senses back and pulled her mouth away from his to speak. "We can't do this here. We agreed to leave this on the ship."

"I know." He could tell it was just as hard for her to pull back as it was for him. "I thought I could do it, but when I saw you it was all I could do to stop myself from pulling you close. Everyone else be damned."

"The dead could march on Winterfell any day. I have to be ready to protect the girls. Just for a few more days. Then, maybe we can reconsider our agreement."

"What changes things in a few days?"

"I am sending Sansa and Arya to Tarth. Jon said he would use his position to force them to go, whether they want to or not. Once they are safely on that ship, I will not have to worry about protecting them at any given hour of the night. I will just be waiting to march like everyone else..." She moved to kiss him again, but he pulled back.

"Won't you be going with them?"

"No, I am staying here. Arya can protect them as well as I can. And Tarth is safe. They won't need me there."

"Well then, this will have to last me for the next few days." He pushed her up again the wall and kissed her again. Her armor didn't really allow him to touch her, so he settled with grasping her free hand and pinning it against the wall next to her hips while his other tangled in her hair. Their tongues battled for dominance. His lips were like fire against hers. And just like that, he broke away from her. "Good night, Brienne of Tarth."

She was left there against the wall as he walked away. She was hopelessly aroused. If only she could have brought him to her bed. She shook her head to try to get her mind back on track and finally moved away from the wall and went to her room.

Sandor was troubled when he left Brienne, but he hadn't let her see that. He couldn't let her know what he planned to do. She would kill him. He found Sansa's room easily as it was just up from Brienne's. Podrick was covering her room at night so he could wake her if something happened. He walked up to Brienne's faithful squire.

"I need to speak with her."

"I believe she is asleep."

"Wake her. It is important."

"Brienne will kill me if Lady Stark tells her I woke her up."

"Wake her." His voice was laced with irritation. "Or I can kill you and wake her anyway."

"Fine." Podrick was not pleased with this. Sandor wasn't sure if he was more afraid of him or Brienne, but he knocked on the door and called out to the inhabitant.

Sansa opened the door. She was in her night clothes, but had obviously not been asleep. "Yes?"

"The Hound..." Podrick began but Sandor shoved him out of the way and cut him off.

"I need to speak to you."

"It is alright Podrick." She told him before he could protest.

"Yes, It's alright Podrick." He mocked as he walked into her room.

Sansa closed the door behind them. "You could be nicer to him. We are all on the same side, you know?"

"He needs to get stronger." He said with his back still to her. "And I have always been on your side." He added quietly.

"I know you have." She walked up behind him. "Even when I didn't see it or understand it. You always did what you could to protect me."

"I need you to do something for me now." He turned to face her. She couldn't read into his features, she had never been ale to.

"If it is within my power, I will do it."

"Has Jon spoken to you about your place in the war to come?"

"My place is in Winterfell." What was he talking about?

"Not anymore. Brienne and Jon are sending you and Arya to Tarth."

"What? No! They can't force us to leave. This is my home. This is _our_ home!"

"Sansa, it is the best thing to do. If we fail, everything will be gone. Winterfell, you, all the men, women, and children out there... Everything gone. And they _can_ make you go. Accept it and survive this. If we win, you will come home." He always told her the truth.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Brienne plans to send you and Arya alone and she will remain here to fight. Take her with you. She is your sworn sword, you are the only one who can command her to go and she has to do it. Please, Sansa," He paused for a moment, "I don't think I can watch her fall."

"You love her?" The silly little girl in her heart swooned. She desperately wanted to believe that there was still love in the world and that those around her might find it.

"Still singing your songs, eh Little Bird?" He smiled and shook his head. "I don't know. All I know is that if she dies, I don't think I will want to go on." He sounded so sincere that it broke Sansa's heart. He did love her. He had just never felt that emotion before. That was almost more sad.

She had known him for a long time. He had never asked anything of her despite how many times he had saved her. "I will talk to Arya so that she is prepared. It will be so much harder if she is protesting too. And we will take Brienne with us. I swear it."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sandor kept to his word the next night. He did not pull Brienne into darkened corridors nor did he try to come to her room. While she was glad he respected her, she also longed for him to be lurking in wait for her. The girls would leave in the morning and she would be able to focus on other things. She would finally be able to bring him to her bed. She was already enjoying the carnal thoughts that came to mind as she walked down the dark corridor to her room. He hadn't been able to stay away tonight, though. As she passed the smaller passageway, a hand reached out and pulled her aside. She knew it was him immediately and didn't fight as he pushed her into wall and kissed her. Her hands wrapped around him.

"I thought the last time was supposed to last." She chided as his mouth left hers to move down her neck. He was pleased she wasn't in her armor tonight.

"I was wrong." His lips recaptured hers and his tongue pushed into her. One of his hands was latched to the back of her neck and the other traveled down between her legs. He cupped her womanhood through her breeches and rubbed her with the heel of his hand. She groaned into his mouth. Her hips ground into his hand, desperately seeking more friction.

She pulled her mouth from his, "You are making it very hard to turn you away."

"Good." His voice was strained and he pulled her hand to his throbbing cock trapped inside his clothes. "I don't want you to turn me away."

"Sandor..." She whined. He hadn't heard a sound like that come from her and he was pretty sure she hadn't either.

"I promise I won't stay and occupy your night. Just be with me for a little while." He knew this could be his last chance. She didn't know she was leaving in the morning, but he knew and he may never see her again. She looked at him, clearly torn between duty and desire. "Please?"

That last word broke her resolve. She slid away from the wall and took his hand to lead him to her chambers. It wasn't large or grand, but it was bigger than the cabin on the ship. The bed was larger too. A fire was already burning on the far side of the room. Podrick always got one started before stationing at Sansa's door despite Brienne telling him he didn't need to. Once they were inside and the door closed, Brienne found she was almost as nervous as the first time. Sandor, however, was not. He made quick work of removing her cloak before tugging at the rest of her clothes. She tried to keep up with him, removing his clothing as deftly as he was removing hers. Soon, the both stood naked before each other. She closed the gap between them and pulled him into a burning kiss.

He pushed back against her, forcing her to move with him until her legs hit the side of the bed. He lowered her down to sit on the bed. He continued moving towards her so she had to scoot back until she was laying across the bed. He seemed pleased with this as he kissed her neck and moved lower on her body. He stopped at her breasts and took one in his mouth and the other in his fingers. She arched her back into him. She heard him chuckle against her skin. He moved his mouth to her other breast and gave it the same treatment before moving again. He nipped and kissed her strong stomach as he moved. Finally, he reached his destination. He dove into her core like she was sea. She groaned and her hips writhed. She was careful not to buck up into him this time. His tongue pushed into her and flicked inside her. She had to cover her mouth to keep a cry from leaving her. He moved his tongue inside her a few more times before moving to her little bundle of pleasure. He caressed it gently and slipped two fingers into her. She couldn't stop her hips from jumping at the sensation. She was losing her mind, she just knew it. He felt so good working her body. Her hips rocked against his fingers as he stroked her. He could feel her walls tightening around his fingers. He loved that he could fray her nerves so quickly. He sucked her little nub into his mouth, drawing her release from her. She tried so hard to be quiet, but a deep cry escaped her throat anyway- though muffled by her pulling the pillow over her mouth. Sandor slowed, but didn't stop his movements so she could ride out her pleasure. He pulled his fingers out of her and moved up so he was level with her face. She was flushed and her eyes were barely open. She looked up at him. His beard was wet from her. She pulled him down to kiss her. She couldn't get over how strange it was that her taste on his lips could turn her on so much.

The kiss grew heated and she bit his lower lip. He growled at her and grabbed her chin, pulling her mouth wide open. His teeth clacked against hers and their tongues battled for dominance. Soon, he released her chin. She took the opportunity to speak.

"Fuck me." Her voice was low and filled with need.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Gods yes." She was shocked at her own boldness. Apparently, it wasn't the wine.

Sandor didn't need to hear anything else. He moved off of her and flipped her over. She yelped in surprise. He was standing next to the bed and he pulled her hips towards him so she was on her hands and knees. She wasn't quite sure what to expect, but the newness of everything was exciting.

Sandor leaned into her back, "You may be a nice, noble, high-born Lady, but you're getting fucked by a Hound." He growled at her and bit into her hip.

Brienne shivered. Why was this so appealing? What had happened to her? Gods, she had never thought this would be her, waiting on her hand and knees in anticipation of a man thrusting into her...

She didn't have long to wait. His hand moved up her back to push her upper body down into the furs on the bed and he pushed into her roughly. She cried out into the furs. He thrust into her forcefully, over and over again. She was so tight around him. He loved the feeling of her wrapped around his cock. He held her hips to change the angle whenever he desired and to pull her closer to him with each thrust. She was moaning and crying out into the furs. He slowed his movements and reached a hand down to her shoulder. He applied enough pressure for her to understand he wanted her to come up to him. He pressed her back against his chest. His right hand moved between her legs to torment her nub. Once they were settled in their new position, he began thrusting harder again. His left hand was on her chest, pulling her against him. She couldn't help the sounds escaping her, nor the fact that they were getting louder.

Sandor's hand moved up to her throat and squeezed, strangling the sounds trying to escape. "If you're not quiet, your little squire is going to come to your aide."

She nodded. His hand stayed firmly on her throat. The involuntary panic her mind felt released adrenaline that lit her body aflame and it coursed through her veins. After a moment, his hand moved up her throat to her jawline and turned her head towards him. Her mouth was already open for him to occupy. His hand left her neck to help her hips keep a rhythm. Her arms moved behind her so she could touch his body. Her nails dug into his muscular ass. She could feel herself coming undone. She had to let go of him and lower herself back to the furs. She couldn't control what would come from her mouth when she came. Sandor moved down with her to keep his hand between her legs. She was writhing against him as he kept up a furious pace. He pinched her nub between his thumb and forefinger and she screamed into the furs. The smothered sound was like music to Sandor. She jerked against him as he drew her out. Suddenly he pulled from her with a groan and she could feel something hot on her lower back.. She concluded that he had finished himself onto her. She stayed like that, breathing heavy and resting her head on the furs.

Sandor found a pitcher of water and a cloth. He poured some water on it and wiped himself off of Brienne. The water was freezing and she hissed as the rag touched her scorching skin. When he was finished he stayed silent. She moved up to her pillow and collapsed onto her side to look at him. She hadn't realized how tired and wound up she had been until now. Now, she felt heavy and warm and so very tired. She watched as Sandor pulled his breeches on. He really wasn't going to try to stay. He had promised to leave, and he was. She couldn't help the disappointment she felt.

"What have you done to me?" She asked quietly.

"I just did what you asked." He smiled at her and knelt next to her bed and reached out to touch her cheek.

"That's not what I meant." She smiled back and leaned into his touch. Her eyes were heavy. Her voice was low and drowsy. "I never wanted a man. I never needed a man. Until I met you. Now, I can't get you out of my head. I long for you every night. You haunt my dreams when I sleep."

"You haunt every one of my thoughts." He whispered. His voice would go no higher. Not that it mattered- he was sure she had slipped into sleep as soon as she finished what she was saying. He stayed that way for a few moments before his hand left her cheek and he stood up to finish dressing. He looked at her one more time and whispered " _forgive me_ " before slipping out the door.

The morning the girls were to leave had come. Brienne stirred in bed. She was still naked, but alone. Sandor had kept his word and hadn't stayed. She quickly got out of bed and dressed.

Sansa had told Podrick that Brienne was joining them and to ready her horse. He obeyed, though he felt that Brienne didn't know this piece of information. Sansa handed him a bag of clothes that she had smuggled out of Brienne's room the day before. The courtyard was mostly empty. Jon was there to see his sisters off. Sandor was there to be sure Brienne left. Then there were a few people just milling about. The girls were saying their goodbye's when Brienne came out to see them off.

"Podrick," She looked at him oddly, "why is my horse saddled?"

"Because you are coming with us." Sansa said.

"No, I am not. Arya will protect you on the road to White Harbor and beyond. Didn't Jon tell you?"

"You are coming with us." Arya repeated cooly.

"My place is here, fighting for your home."

"Your place is with us." Sansa said as she and Arya mounted up. "You swore to keep our council as well as protect us. We will be in a land that we have never been. Starks don't fare well in the south. We will need your council."

"She is staying here. We need her in the war." Jon spoke up. What had gotten into these girls?

"Yes, thank you." They barely needed her here, let alone somewhere safer. They did not need her more than Jon did. Jaime had been walking through the courtyard to his troops. He stopped nearby to watch their exchange. He was about to step in to state that she would be one of their greatest assests in the war when his tirade was cut off before it begun.

"She's going." Sandor stated gruffly.

 _Ah._ Jaime thought.

"What do you think you're doing?" She damanded. Her anger was building now. Jaime could see that she was seething.

"I said, you're going." He repeated with the same gruffness.

"I told you once that you don't get to decide..." Whatever she had planned to say got lost when he cut her off.

"Don't make me watch you die." His voice was loud. He looked at her desperately before walking closer to her and speaking softly, "I can't bear the thought of watching you fall and seeing you go up in flames. Go with them. Or I will tie you to that horse and have them lead you all the way to Tarth."

Jon backed away. He chose his battles wisely and he knew this was one he wouldn't win. If she fought anymore, he would order her to go. He remembered losing Ygrite. If he could have ensured her safety, he would have done the same. She too had been a very capable fighter, but it hadn't saved her.

"I don't want to leave you." She said so quietly even he could barely hear her.

He leaned into her and whispered in her ear, "I know, you should have kept me in bed when you had the chance."

She blushed fiercely, but choked back something between a laugh and a sob. "Please don't die."

"You know I am hard to kill." He smiled at her.

"Jon..." She started, but he already knew.

"Go." He told her.

Sandor was still so close to her. She didn't care who knew now. She pulled him in and kissed him. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. Everything was so uncertain. What if this was it? What if they lost? What if they win, but he dies? Gods, she didn't want to think of him dying. She wasn't ready to let go when he pulled away from her.

"You have to get going."

She nodded, but paused for a moment. She looked at Jaime and hoped he would understand what she was about to do. She untied her sword belt and handed it to him. "Take it. You always wanted some Valerian steel, remember?"

"I am not taking your sword."

"You will. You will need it more than I will. Live, and give her back to me."

She pushed it into his hands and turned to mount her horse. She forced herself to be composed once again, "Ser Jaime, in addition to yourself, try not to let my squire die. I am rather attached to him."

He laughed heartily. "We will try not to die."

They began to ride off when Sandor called after them, "Arya, don't let her come back here until this is over."

Arya nodded and took up the rear of the line.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It had been 5 moons since they landed on Tarth. Brienne couldn't deny that it was nice to be there. She didn't realize how much she had missed her father. So much had changed in the years she had been gone. The rigid septa that had raised her had passed away. She couldn't muster any grief. The woman had been dreadful and so much of her own self hatred had come from her. And then so much was the same. Her father had a lady friend who he had no plans to marry. She wished he would. He could still father children. She loathed being his only choice of an heir.

It was also so peaceful here- even more than she remembered. It was almost as if the rest of Westeros wasn't chest deep in war. She had not been wrong. The girls needed no protection here. She rarely dawned her armor, but kept a new sword at her side. Winter had arrived here as well, though it was not nearly like it was in the north. Everyone walked around in heavy cloaks, with the exception of Sansa, Arya, and herself who wore lighter cloaks over their thicker clothes of the north. They had been in true cold and for quite some time and this was practically summer to them now. She thought of the North often. No word had been sent. Were they still fighting? Had the fighting even begun or was the Night King simply toying with them? Waiting for their resources to run out? If the fighting had begun, were the living winning? If the fighting was done, was anyone left alive to send word? She didn't want to think about that.

She found herself sitting outside the castle walls on the beach more often than not- staring out at the sea. She loved Tarth, but it wasn't her home anymore. Her heart longed for the life she had found with the armies in the North. With the Stark girls of course, but also Jaime and Jon Snow and Podrick and even Tormund. Then there was Sandor and everything that she wanted to explore there. Yes, her home was out there somewhere. It was not on this island that had raised her.

She could hear faint footsteps behind her. She didn't turn around. She didn't have to be on alert here. Sansa had brought her a new cloak. She draped it over her shoulders as she approached before sitting down next to her. Brienne smiled and pulled it around her. It was getting colder, and it had even started snowing. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't realized it.

"You made another one?" She asked lightly. She and Sansa had become tentative friends as neither had any real duties. Brienne had sent for a Bravosi swordsman to keep Arya company. She enjoyed sparring with the little thing, but she knew Arya missed having a true skill match.

"I have found that I have a lot of time on my hands. And it helps me to not think of home."

"Thank you. I am well prepared for winter now." She chided.

"You had better be. I think I have used all of the materials on Tarth while making cloaks." She laughed. It was good to laugh again. Sansa sat for a few moments before she ventured to speak again, knowing the subject would be touchy. "You fear for him, don't you?"

Brienne stared out at the water. "I do."

Sansa didn't know what she had hoped to accomplish with this discussion. Perhaps she just wanted Brienne to be able to talk about it. She knew she wasn't like other ladies. She had never had other girls to confide in while growing up- to share gossip while doing needle work or brushing each others hair. She could imagine her being much like Arya as a child. No friends to share her hopes and dreams with because they weren't what girls were supposed to hope and dream about. She had probably been very lonely growing up and had learned to keep things to herself. She hadn't spoken of Sandor in the time they had been gone. Not once. "I am sure he is alive He is hard to kill. He is one of the most stubborn people I know."

"He is hard to kill." She smiled as he mind flashed back to fighting him on the mountain. Any lesser man would have perished.

"You defeated him once, didn't you?" Sansa was secretly dying for that story.

"I did. He should have been dead." Her laugh was genuine. "I had come across him and Arya near the Vale when I was looking for you. I had no idea who he was or what I was getting myself into by fighting him. After I disarmed him and he was on his knees I told him that I had no wish to kill him. I called him Ser."

"He's not a knight." Sansa said with a wince.

"Oh yes, so he said just before he wrapped both hands around Oathkeeper. I am still surprised that he didn't just cut his own fingers off. Anyway, he rose back up, bleeding, and used my own sword to strike me. Then we were both disarmed and rolling around on the ground, hand to hand. So much happened so fast. We were both covered in blood and beating each other with anything we could find. All I remember after that was hitting him with a rock and he fell down the side of the mountain." She was smiling broadly as she finished the story. Then she sighed.

"We just haven't heard anything. Why haven't we heard from anyone?" Brienne wondered.

"I don't know." Sansa's voice was weak.

"That pig headed son-of-a-cow had better be alive."

Sansa laughed at that. "You know, I have known Sandor for many years and I don't think I have ever heard anyone call him that."

They both laughed at that. "I am just so confused about things now. Things were simpler before..." Brienne trailed off.

"Can I tell you something? Woman to woman, or friend to friend, or whatever the hells this is..." She looked to Brienne, who nodded her head, to continue. "I used to be terrified of _the Hound_. I was 11 the first time I saw him. He was sworn to Cersei and she had sworn him to serve Joffrey. He was so tall and brooding and angry. His eyes seemed so cold and distant and the scars on his face were so ugly. Joffrey treated him like a dog. I am not sure if the nickname came from that or if that came from his nickname, but regardless, Joffrey was just awful to him. He would send him away like a pup to a kennel when I was around because I was so scared I would just tremble. I was too stupid to realize that Joffrey was the one I should fear and Sandor was who I should trust. It took a long time to learn that lesson- most of my lessons took far too long to learn. There was one night that I will always remember so clearly. It was the tourney the king had held for my father, the new Hand of the King. It was very late and we were quite far from the Red Keep. I was scared to walk back alone. Joffrey offered to escort me, but he passed me off to the Hound and went about the party. Gods I was scared. I was alone with him, in the dark, in a new city... I was trembling so hard I could barely walk. I was tripping all over myself. I brought up how well he had done in the tournament. I was trying to courteous, like I had been taught. He berated me, saying my septa would be very proud of me repeating all the nice things I had been taught to say. He spoke about knights and honor and his brother. He told me how he got the scars on his face. The real story, not the lies his father told or the rumors that people had spread. And suddenly, I wasn't really afraid of him anymore. I don't know why, the story was dreadful, but I was no longer afraid. It wasn't long after that night that our lives started to unravel. Joffrey's true nature came out. His mother had told him that a king should never strike his lady, but he enjoyed seeing me hurt. So he would have his Kingsguard beat me. Sandor was the only one who never did. Some would try to keep their honor by not hitting me so hard, but Joffrey soon stopped asking them. And when the royal family was attacked in the streets, Joffrey refused to send anyone out to find me. I was trapped in a stable by 6 men. They had thrown me on the ground and were they were ripping at my clothes and holding me down. They would have raped me a torn me apart, but Sandor had come for me. He killed them all and lifted me up and carried me all the way back. And just like then, he would soon be the only thing between me and Joffrey. When Stannis laid siege to Kings Landing, the women and children were all locked up deep within the castle. Ser Iliyen Payne was there... To kill us all should Stannis succeed. My handmaiden slipped me out and told me to run to my room and bar the door. When I got there, Sandor was already there, drunk, sitting and waiting. He had walked away from the battle. He was walking away from Joffrey and the Queen. He told me he would take me home. You will find, turning you down was not the first stupid thing I had done. So he left without me." She sighed. She was rambling. This wasn't how she had planned for this to go.

"He told me once that he had tried to protect you. He had done all he thought he could do."

"I truly believe he did."

"Forgive me Sansa, but was there a point to all that?"

"Sandor is good man. His largest misfortune in life is the family he was born to. And as a result, who he was sworn to. They commanded him to do horrible things. Dishonorable things. I know he has done many things he was not commanded to do as well, but after a lifetime of evil... Well, it doesn't seem so wrong any longer. I believe he carries the weight of all of those things around with him. He deserves to be happy, same as you do. And there are far worse men you could fall for, but few more deserving."

"And if that isn't what he wants? We both could have simply given in to basic human need as we faced the end of the world."

"Mayhaps, but I think he does feel more. He must feel something for you or he wouldn't have come to me and asked me to force you to come here with me."

"He told you to bring me here? When?"

"The night they brought the wounded from Eastwatch. Arya and I already knew we were being sent away by the time Jon told us, but we agreed to go without a fight because we both owe Sandor so much. The least we could do was bring the woman he loves somewhere safe."

"Did he use that word?" She didn't know if she dared hope he had. Could he love her without really knowing her? She also realized that Sandor came to her on what he knew would be their last night. The last night he may ever get to see her.

"No, but I don't think he has ever experienced love in order to recognize it. He did say that if you died, he had no reason to keep fighting. Close enough to me." She was looking at Brienne now. So much appeared to be going through her mind.

"Do you really believe he wants to be with me? He told me he couldn't offer a life with him."

"He wants to be with you. He just doesn't think he is worthy of you or that he even deserves what men so often take for granted. He isn't big on taking vows." Sansa rested her hand on Brienne's shoulder. Brienne dropped her gaze to her knees and took several deep breaths. "Brienne?"

A/N: There are a many snippets from the books here. Many things I just liked better in the books.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"I am with child." She said so quietly that Sansa almost couldn't hear her.

"Are you sure?" Sansa was a bit surprised by this news. She had only assumed they had shared a bed, but nothing had ever confirmed it.

"I haven't dared to see the maester, but I haven't bled since I was with him. Then my body changed. And now, I can feel it."

"How do you feel about it? I don't know what response you want from me." Sansa wanted to congratulate her and fawn over her, but Brienne wasn't a normal Lady nor was she married. And Sansa didn't know what to do with that.

Brienne looked at her, almost afraid to ask in fear of Sansa's chastising response, "How do you want to respond?"

Sansa didn't say anything, but she smiled bigger than Brienne had ever seen and launched herself up to hug her shoulders.

"Oh!" Brienne awkwardly returned the hug.

"Sorry. Sansa said as she released her and righted herself. "I think it is fantastic."

"You may be the only one." Brienne seemed relieved to have someone to talk to and who didn't think less of her with her confession. She had felt so scared and alone. She hadn't meant for this to happen. She had meant to stay in the North and more than likely die.

"You're not happy?"

"I am terrified."

Sansa nodded. Brienne was highborn, like her, and they had certain rules to obey. This broke all of them. Men could get away with this behavior, but women... "If you didn't need to be scared, if you weren't a Lady, would you be happy?"

"But I am, Sansa." Brienne had been a realist for a very long time. She had no choice. "My father will be furious. I am sure he hoped to marry me off now that I am home. I am certainly not a prize, but politics dictate more than anything. You know that." Brienne looked at Sansa, worried that bringing up her two political matches would strike a bad nerve. Sansa just nodded her head knowingly.

"Maybe Danaerys will change the dynamics of houses marrying for power. Then it won't matter." Sansa was ever hopeful that the world might change. She had been angry with Jon when he wrote that he had bent the knee. However, once they arrived in Winterfell and she was able to speak to her, she could see why. She wanted a better world for her people. She was there, fighting alongside the north is a battle that could destroy her plan to take Westeros back when she could have simply destroyed Cersei and left the north to fend for themselves.

"We don't even know if any of them are alive."

"We should go visit the Maester." Sansa sighed. She was not going to get anywhere if they just kept circling back to this. "Whether you are ready or not, you are going to have a baby soon. A beautiful little life to hold in your arms."

"My mother died while giving birth. What if I should die? And what if Sandor's dead? What if I leave this child with no mother and no father?" Brienne looked at Sansa for the first time in their conversation. Her eyes were so wide and worried.

"You won't." Sansa knew there was always a risk in birth, but she wasn't going to add to Brienne's concern.

"I should have been more careful. I should have thought about the consequences." Brienne shook her head. Sansa wanted to say something encouraging, but her only sexual experiences had been terrible so she couldn't even begin to understand what had been in Brienne's mind when they were together.

"Come, let's go see the Maester." Sansa said instead.

"Now?"

"Do you have something better to do?"

"I am certain I could find something..." Sansa was already standing and holding out her hand to Brienne. She sighed, "Fine"

Brienne took her hand and got up. Sansa looked at her beneath the cloak. Her stomach was certainly larger and more rounded under her tunic- her breeches tied looser than normal to accommodate her growing figure. Her normally small, flat chest had grown quite a bit as well. She couldn't believe that she hadn't noticed. She supposed it was due to her still being quite small for how far along she must be. Everything about Broenne was large, she would have thought a child would make her stomach large as well. But Brienne's stomach only popped out a bit. Brienne quickly wrapped her cloak around her so that her body was hidden. She saw Sansa look away suddenly, as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn't.

"I'm sorry." Sansa said quietly.

"No, don't be. I'm just not used to feeling so exposed. I suppose it is fortuitous that winter is here, I can hide beneath cloaks."

"You know, " Sansa said as they set off towards the castle, "eventually it will be hard to hide from anyone. And your breeches won't work much longer. I can make you some new clothes."

"I'm going to have to wear dresses at some point, aren't I?" She looked sullen.

"Eventually, it will be easier on you. I think we can put that off for now, though." Sansa smiled at her, hoping it made her feel a little better. They walked in silence back to the gates and through the corridors to the rookery.

Brienne felt so uncomfortable being examined by the man who had bandaged her many wounds as a child. He had been the man who helped deliver her. He had also been present for her brother and her sisters' births. He had cared for her mother as she died after losing the baby she had just birthed. Brienne shivered. Was it a bad omen to have him caring for her too? Would he deliver her child? Her mind wandered to Winterfell. She wanted her child born there. She wanted Sandor to be there to hold his child- though she wasn't sure he would even want to. She knew that neither was a real possibility. She would not be able to leave the island and even if she could send word, Sandor would not be able to set sail.

Her mind was brought back to the present when Maester Myrton cleared his throat, obviously waiting for an answer to a question she hadn't heard.

"I'm sorry, I was lost in thought." She felt like a child again.

"I asked when you last had your moon blood."

"Oh, " She blushed, "I haven't bled since... um... not for the last six moon phases." Had it really been that long since she had seen him?

"And you can feel the baby moving?"

"Yes. For a little while now." Her hand went to her stomach on its own accord.

"That is good. Means the child is strong. You should eat small meals as often as you can. Rest when you need to. You will need it in a few months to come. We don't have a midwife on the island anymore, but there is a widow woman who delivers most of the babies in her village. We can call her to assist when the time comes."

Brienne could only nod in response. Only a few months time. She should send a raven. Or ten ravens. Would any make it? Where should she even send them? Did Winterfell still stand? Had they been pushed south? Riverrun perhaps?

"Brienne, you must take care of yourself. The worry I can see on your face will not help you."

"I will try not to worry so much, Maester. Do you think ravens could get through the mainland?"

"I am not certain. They may survive south of the Neck, but I can't begin to know what the weather is doing to the north."

"If we receive word that we can go back to the North, can I travel?"

"Unless you receive a raven tomorrow, it will not be safe for you to leave the island."

She nodded again, "I want to try to send ravens. Also, I need this to stay between us until I can tell my father."

"Bring me scrolls and tell me where they will go. I wish you good fortune with your father."

Brienne stood and left the room as quickly as she could. Sansa was pacing outside the door, but stopped when Brienne joined her in the hall.

"Well?" Brienne wished she could be as happy and Sansa was.

"A few more moons and I will have the baby. He told me to eat and rest."

"Not long now at all! Did he tell you if he thinks it is a boy or girl? Sometimes they can guess by the way you are carrying." She was positively giddy. Her eyes were shining when she said, "Oh! I will start making clothes for the baby!"

"That would be lovely. I hadn't thought to ask what he though about the sex of the baby." Brienne couldn't stop the worrying. She was scared to tell her father. It would have been so much easier if she could leave the island and go back to Winterfell and not have to face him. She had never thought such a craven thought before.

"Are you alright?"

"Just trying to figure out how to tell my father."

"He loves you very much. I am sure he will understand."

"He may love me, but he is also the Lord of Tarth. I am not his only responsibility. Securing a future for his people is more important. I was the least desirable betrothal in the Seven Kingdoms and that was as a virgin. Three failed already. Now what will he do?"

"He will get over it." Sansa had no idea she had been betrothed before, let alone three times.

"I want to send ravens... Where do you think they should be sent to?"

"Winterfell, Riverrun, possibly to Bear Island. Lady Mormont's people may know what is happening with the war, and they will be protected from the Wights, like we are." Strategy was easier than emotion for both of them. Sansa had learned that emotions just cloud your judgment. She could help Brienne plan for the baby, help her prepare to speak to her father, and even help her with ravens and letters and where they should go. She couldn't, however, make her stop worrying.

"I hadn't thought of Bear Island. That is no doubt the best place to send ravens to get a reply. I will send three ravens to Winterfell and Riverrun, and four to Bear Island." Brienne sounded much more confident that she had a few moments ago.

"That sounds like a good plan. You should rest now. Arya and I will take dinner in our chambers so you can speak to your father alone."

"Tonight?" Brienne's confidence fled.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Brienne paced in her chambers, trying to gain some courage before she faced her father. She could not hide this for very long. He would notice a squalling newborn attached to her chest eventually. She hated to disappoint him. As if her entire existence wasn't bad enough... She knew he loved her, but she had never understood why he couldn't have been allowed a better child. He could have had his son, who was four years older than Brienne. He would have been a proud, honorable Lord like his father. Or one of her sisters. She was sure they would have been beautiful, unlike her. They would have been married and made Tarth stronger in the realms. Why had it been her to survive them all? She was not fit to be his daughter anymore than she was fit to be his son. She wondered how much disappointment her father could take from her.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was still... her face. Her body was finally that of a woman, however, with noticeable breasts and the curve of the child in her belly. She had never once imagined she would be see her body changed in such a way. She threw a cloak over her shoulders and fastened straps Sansa had sewn into it to keep it together. Sansa had also added space for her arms to be free of the cloak while it still hid the rest of her. It hid her well enough to get through the night.

She walked swiftly to her father's solar. She had requested they sup together in private. She approached the door and paused. Her hand rested on the aged wood. She remembered coming here as a child. Now she was a grown woman, though she didn't feel like it. It amazed her how coming home made her feel like a small child again. She was shaking as she took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Sunlight was leaking into the room as it peeked through the clouds. The balcony overlooked the sandy beach and gray sea. The sapphire waters had given way to the cold steel of winter. She wondered if she would be back in the summer, her child learning to swim in the same sea that she had. Would they build sand-castles together with her father looking upon them with joy? She sighed. She needed to put these childish thoughts aside. Tonight, she was certain he would not be filled with joy.

"Brienne, dear!" His booming voice rang against the stone walls as he entered from his private chambers.

"Father." She smiled broadly and kissed him on the cheek.

"Are you hungry, my dear? I, for one, am famished!" He took her arm and walked with her to the large table. In her youth it had been next to the balcony so that everyone could see the wonderful, blue waters. Now it sat in a smaller cove to protect Selwyn and his guests from the weather.

"Oh, yes." She lied. She was far too nervous to be hungry.

Servants started bringing in the meal as Selwyn led Brienne to her seat across from his. Though it was still grand compared to most, it was considered simple for High-born meals. It was just the way she liked it. Her father had raised her to know that she was allowed many luxuries as long as her people didn't suffer for it. She would teach her child these things as well. _Stop, your child will not be a Lord, it is a bastard._

"Brienne? Are you alright?" She looked up at her father. She hadn't realized that food had even been set on her plate as she was so consumed by her thoughts. This was already going poorly. She had hoped to relax a bit and get them into their meal before revealing her dishonor.

"Actually, father, there is a reason I wanted to to sup with you alone tonight." She was shaking again. She couldn't even eat or he would see how strong the tremors were. Even if she could eat, her stomach was so upset that she would likely vomit it all back up.

"And here I thought it was just for the pleasure of my company." He smiled at her.

"You know I cherish your company above all else, Father." She was so sincere in that statement that she was able to calm herself a bit.

"Alright, my child, what is it then?" His voice was soft.

"Father," She had to fight to keep her voice steady and fear bottled up inside, "I... I'm..."

"Spit it out, child." His voice was firm now. His concern was evident on his face.

She closed her eyes to push back tears before opening them again to look at him. "I'm with child."

"Impossible." He couldn't believe his ears. He must be imagining these words. This was Brienne. He adored her, but he also had eyes. She had been turned down for marriage , mocked, and even chastised for her appearance. She also had honor- he had made sure of that. She knew what this meant for her and for their house. How could it be?

"It is." She said quietly. She was looking down again, too ashamed to face him.

"No!" His voice carried through the silence. "You, of all people, wouldn't disgrace yourself like some whore."

"And yet, it would appear that I did." The words cut her. She knew he would be angry, but she hadn't expected to be called a whore by her own father.

"I didn't believe it when I heard whispers of the 'Kingslayer's Whore.' The woman carrying out his orders and carrying his sword. I believed it was just a cruel name like the others because you were better than they were. It would seem I was mistaken. My _honorable_ daughter gave in to what was between her legs. Now, here you are. I assume that is the Kingslayer's bastard you brought with you." He raged at her. She had not though he could be this cruel to her, despite everything.

"It isn't like that! Ser Jaime gave me the sword to fulfill an oath we both swore!" While it was incredibly off-topic, she felt the need to correct him on that.

"Ser Jaime is it? How could you do this to me? To our family?" His voice was poison unlike she had ever heard before.

"I didn't do this to you. I did this to myself." Anger reared up against the fear and sorrow she felt. He stood so abruptly that his chair fell backwards. "I was supposed to stay and fight. I was supposed to die." She shouted at him and he turned his back on her.

"That would have been easier for you, wouldn't it? Just trounce around encampments, falling into any man's bed to keep warm and never needing to think of the consequences. Never thinking of the damage you would do to our house!" His words engulfed her. Tears slipped from her eyes before she could stop them. Of all the cruel things she had heard in her lifetime, none had hurt her like his.

"I am sorry to have dishonored your house so, Lord Selwyn." She stood as tall as she could and spoke with the same malice his voice held. "I will take my leave of Tarth as soon as a ship is available, if it pleases you."

She didn't wait for a response before the strode across the room and opened the large door, leaving her father alone in his rage.

She couldn't get to her chambers fast enough. Her knees gave out as soon as she closed the door behind her. She dropped to the floor and sobs wracked her shoulders. Her arms wrapped around her belly where her child was flipping about. She wasn't one to cry like this. Perhaps it was the child making her so weak. Or, more likely, that her father hated her so much for what she had done. Either way, her tears had come and they were not stopping.

The sun had hidden behind the clouds again and the sky had turned from gray to black before she was able to pick herself up off the floor. She rid herself of the cloak before kneeling to start a fire in the hearth. She should have done it before she left because now her room was getting rather cold. She pulled a fur off of her bed and wrapped it around herself before sitting in the chair by the fire. Her hand rested on her rounded belly. She stared into the flames. The red priestess had said she could see the future in the flames. All Brienne saw was burning wood.

She jumped when she heard a knock on the door. Assuming it was Sansa wanting to know how it went, she bid her to come in.

"Brienne?" Only it wasn't Sansa. It was her father. His voice was soft again. His face showed signs of tears, though she figured much less than her own did.

"Lord Selwyn." She said quietly.

"Stop that." He came to kneel in front of her and took her hands in his. His eyes bore into hers, "Please forgive me. I behaved atrociously toward you."

She felt fresh tears come to her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Father. I was so careless I wasn't thinking."

"You were human." He knew how it felt to be alone as well as lonely. Status and gender did not give you a reprieve from such torture. "Please, forgive my behavior. I have been Lord Selywn the Evenstar, solely, for such a long time that I reacted like a crass Lord, not like your father."

"I have been away for so long." She felt him let go of her hands and he sat in a chair on the other side of the hearth.

"Yes, you have been away for such a long time. You were just a girl when you left, only seven-and-ten; off to join a war. You meant to fight and even die for your King and I sat at home praying for your return. I had hoped to hear from you after the news of Renly's death reached us. I heard that the woman of his Kingsguard had done the deed, but I knew better. You loved that boy, though he couldn't love you in return"

"Father..." She hadn't considered all the things he must have thought. She had never written to him. Not once since she had joined Renly.

He held up a hand to silence her, "Then, I received ransom demands from a Lord Bolton, but I never heard back and you were not returned. I feared... Well," She looked at him. She knew exactly what he had feared. "Then I heard of this giant lady-knight traveling across Westeros. The woman who had stolen the heir to Winterfell away from these same Boltons before the Starks took Winterfell back. And then, here you were. Home again, but you were not the little girl who left- the girl full of songs and hopes and looked like summer wind. You arrived here as a woman. A grown woman who had learned the pain of life and the true cruelness of the world and had felt the cold of winter."

"The years have been so long." She choked out a small sob.

"That they have. So, tell me, is the Kingsl... Jaime Lannister the father?"

"No. Ser Jaime is..." She couldn't quite find the right word for what they were, "we are friends."

"Who then was given the honor of impregnating my only daughter?" He hadn't quite intended to say it like that, but he was still her father and he was still upset at the news. He was still upset that she would have a bastard. He saw her look down. Had that been the only harsh thing he said to her, mayhaps she wouldn't be so worried about what to say now. "I'm sorry, Brienne. You can't ask me not to be upset at all."

She knew that was true. She pondered for a moment. This was not going to get any easier. She briefly wondered if he would be more upset by a Kingslayer bastard or a Hound bastard. She knew the reputation that came with the name Clegane. Sandor being the Hound and his brother being the Mountain that Rides were considered equally evil in Westeros. "Sandor Clegane."

His heart sank. There were few men in Westeros with the stature and inhuman strength that the Cleganes possessed. Brienne was a great warrior, but she was still a woman. "I am so sorry. I should have considered that he forced himself on you."

"He didn't rape me, Father. I went willingly to his bed." She couldn't look at him. She was worried what disgust she would see there.

"You care for this man, then?" Selwyn wanted to understand. She was his only living child. He couldn't lose her. He had come too close too many times already.

"Father," she sighed, "you are not going to like this conversation any more than the last one."

"Just, tell me."

"I barely know him."

She noticed her father twitch in his seat. "Go on."

So she did. She told him of their first encounter when she had defeated him in single combat and what a great battle it had been. She told him of Kingslanding and the strange feeling she had upon seeing him alive years later. Even with all the men she had fought, he had come the closest to killing her. It was strangely enticing, drawing her to him on the last night of the voyage north. She avoided talking about that night, other than to tell him that they were heading to battle the Night King and his army- that no one believed existed. She told him how she had missed him and worried about him when he was on his way to Eastwatch and she was in Winterfell. Finally, she told him that she wouldn't be home if he hadn't asked the Stark girls to force her to go. She had truly planned to fight and likely die while battling those monsters, but he had begged her to go because he couldn't bear the thought of watching her fall in battle. She also told him that he had told her he couldn't give her a life with him. She admitted that she felt like home was lost out there somewhere despite being on Tarth.

When she was finally finished speaking, She was exhausted. Her eyes were heavy and her body screamed for rest. Pregnancy took a toll on her and the trials of the day had worn her down even more.

"Things will work out, Brienne. We will get through this. If he changes his mind, you would have my blessing. It would seem he cares for you as you do for him." He smiled at her. He could see she was losing her battle with sleep so he reached out his arm for her, "Come, let me help you to bed."

"I am not a cripple." She said, but took his arm anyway. The fur fell from her shoulders and revealed her body. She was still in her tunic and breeches from that morning. He looked at her and saw her for the first time.

"I never thought I would see the day when you would swell with child." He squeezed her arm lightly. "A grandchild."

"I'm sorry it didn't happen the way it should have." She told him as she sat down on the bed. She truly wished that she had done things right for her father's sake. Just once.

"You have always done things your way in this world. Why should this be any different?"

"I'm sorry I was the only child you were able to keep. I wish you had a better heir."

"Do not ever say that. You are my perfect child and nothing will change that. If anything was to be different it would be that I had my family whole. Since that is not an option, I would not trade you for anyone." He kissed her on the forehead and bid her goodnight. She laid in bed and heard him close the door. It was amazing how she had gone from feeling so lost and broken to feeling so very loved.

As she got comfortable on the feather bed and wrapped herself in fur and silk, she couldn't help but think about that night on the ship and the want of a comfortable bed to spend eternity in.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I know Ser Goodwin is dead, but this will fall under an alternate reality I suppose. I really wanted her to have another ally from her childhood.

Chapter 8

A few days later Brienne took her scrolls to the rookery. She hadn't wanted to give any important information until they heard back from this round of ravens. She simply asked for news of Winterfell. She had already come to terms with the fact that she would not be going to Winterfell to have her child nor would Sandor be able to get to Tarth- even if she were able to find him. She didn't want to give him the news by raven so she hoped to hear he was alive and well so she could request his presence on the island. She hoped he would come at her request alone, but it if the war was still raging there was little chance for that.

After she saw the ravens take flight, she went to the training yard to watch Arya spar with her Bravosi swordsman. She had originally requested him simply because she wanted Arya to have someone who could refine her skills and truly offer her a challenge. Since she had began in the Bravosi style and then trained with the faceless men, Brienne knew she would not be a true asset in that regard. Nor would Tarth's master-at-arms who had trained her. It had turned out to be a better decision that she would have known at the time as she was unable to train now. She had been keeping herself away from the yard since she had suspected she was with child, just to safe. This was her first time back there and she felt a pang of sadness. She looked forward to getting back to training. Her mind wandered to her many sessions with Podrick. She said a quick prayer to the Warrior to give him the skill to stay alive.

She was wearing a tunic and breeches, like before, but this time her cloak was not hiding her body. She let it flow around her and reveal her swollen belly. Her father knew. Soon, they would all know. She may as well embrace it and not hide from their stares. She could only imagine what they were thinking.

Ser Goodwin appeared at her side. He was much older than she had realized. His hair was gray and thinning. He was still tall and strong, but he seemed to be less brawny than he had been. She smiled at him. He had been her lifeline for such a long time. Teaching her how to hold a sword, how to stand, to defend, and to attack. He could teach her how to move and how to calculate her opponents next move, but he could not teach her what it was to truly take a life. He had prepared her as well as he could, and then pray she didn't hesitate when the time came. She didn't.

"My Lady." He returned her smile. "It would seem congratulations are in order."

"I don't know about that, Ser."

"I do. While it may not be ideal, your father has only spoken of his delight at meeting his grandchild. I know it was never what you desired, but you seem to be adjusting well."

"I look forward to sparring again." She said wistfully.

He laughed heartily, "Soon enough."

"I feel oddly ready. I am terrified of the birth bed, but I am not as unhappy as I thought I would be when carrying a child and I find myself wanting to hold this baby more than I have ever wanted anything. I think of all the things I want to teach him or her and all of the experiences I want to share."

"Motherhood will suit you. What of the father?"

"If the gods are good, he is alive. That is all I can hope for at this point. The rest is yet to be determined."

"Is he a good man?" He loved her almost as much as her father did and he longed to see her happy. He had been there for her after she had been turned down by Red Ronnet and knew how badly his words had wounded her. She was still so much a child despite the expectation of marriage and motherhood at that age. His words had been more cruel than necessary. Then he was there to witness her father's final attempt, when she left Ser Humphry broken and yielding in the dirt. He had been so proud of her that day. She knew she deserved better than that.

"To me he is."

"That is all that matters."

"Mayhaps." Her attention turned back to the sparring session between Arya and her partner. Their swords moved so quickly that they were barely seen. Brienne wondered if she were even capable of such maneuvers. She doubted it. Even if she had been given lessons as a water dancer, she was likely too large to fight with such speed and grace combined. She was large, and bulky, and fit the Westerosi style better.

"She is very skilled." Ser Goodwin complimented.

"She is. That little girl can best me almost every time."

"She moves like lightening. I imagine most would fall before her."

"Many have. In a sense, she started it all. I was searching for her sister when I stumbled upon her and the Hound. He didn't look at me like the others. Yes, he said was was dumb and threw a few insults, but he didn't treat me like I was incapable of swinging a sword. The battle was fierce from the start. When I disarmed him, he did not give up. Soon I lost my weapon as well and we grappled on the ground. I still can't believe I beat him. He is a brutal fighter." She paused and shook her head, "And I lost Arya anyway. She had disappeared without a trace. It stuns me how far we have all come."

"I have heard stories of the Hound. I trained you and I know how strong you are and the skill you have, but even I am surprised you defeated him. He is a brutal man."

"He can be."

"It is true then? He fathered your child?" He was genuinely surprised. He could think of few people with so opposite of reputations.

She laughed. It did seem to be an odd match. Not that they had been more to each other thus far than bedding partners. She was growing comfortable with the idea of motherhood, but she did not know yet if he would be part of that life. "Yes, it is true."

"I would be lying if I said I understood." His tone was not unkind.

"I know." She knew most people would find it outrageous.

"My Lady, I must attend my duties."

"Of course." Brienne took her leave as well. Watching everyone else train made her too jealous. She couldn't wait to get back into fighting form.

It was still early so Brienne made her way to the kitchens to grab something to eat. She had to keep reminding herself that she needed several small meals. She had been used to life on the road, eating once a day, if they could catch something. Then sparingly eating the food at Castle Black, because it was better to go hungry some days than it was to eat that slop. Winerfell was already restricting food. After taking it back, they needed to focus on storing as much as they were able before winter truly hit. This had adjusted her to a small meal to break her fast and a larger supper. There was no sneaking food inbetween.

She had settled on a small bowl of boiled oats and dried fruit. She wasn't entirely sure what kind of fruit it was, but she figured it didn't matter- it would never compare to the divinity that was fresh fruit. She hated winter. She ate quickly in the kitchen before setting off once again. She was growing restless. She hadn't sparred in several moons and she was so unacustomed to just sitting about. She wanted to ride a horse, or fight, or venture. But she was stuck within the walls of the castle while her body grew a new person for the world and she awaited news on those out in it. She sighed while wandering about the corridors. This could be a long wait.

Brienne's time was getting close. Her stomach was so large that she couldn't see her own feet without leaning forward. She had taken to wearing loose dresses as she had no desire to struggle to pull her breeches on- not that she could lace them anyway. Sansa had done a lovely job of keeping Brienne comfortable. The dresses fit at least, and she didn't feel too horribly ugly in them. Her room was filled with things for the baby. Her father had a beautiful cradle commissioned and Sansa had outfitted it with a small feather mattress and a gorgeous blanket that bore the sigil of House Tarth. She had also been making clothes for the new arrival. Brienne wasn't certain her child would even get to wear them all.

Brienne spent most of her time as of late in her chambers. Sansa would come in with her fabrics and needles and thread to keep Brienne company while she meticulously sewed. Maester Myrton had told her that she looked to be carrying a boy. Sansa was so excited for Brienne and Sandor to have a son. Brienne was happy as well, but she knew the child would be a bastard and it made it harder to be excited. He would not carry on any name and he would not hold any titles. She told herself that it was alright as long as he was healthy and happy, but she felt guilty. She was bringing him into a world where bastards were treated as though they were worthless and it had all been for her own selfish pleasure. To make matters worse, there had been no responses from their ravens. They may not have arrived, or there my be nothing left. There was no way to know.

Sansa was in Brienne's chambers that afternoon, like most. She was chattering away, but Brienne wasn't paying attention. She wasn't feeling like herself, so she was laying in bed. She felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. She winced and it quickly subsided. She wondered if the time was near enough for her to start laboring. After all, she had not felt anything like this so far. The maester had told her that she would feel pressure and maybe even pain for several weeks before her body would be ready for the birth. She hadn't understood what he meant at first, but soon she began to experience the dull sensations he had warned her about. This was different. There was never pain before, and this was actually painful. She decided to just relax and stop thinking about it. Sansa hadn't noticed at all and was happily sewing and talking.

Sansa was still happily chatting as the day gave way to night. Brienne had been having pains regularly for some time. Finally, she interrupted Sansa's monologue.

"Sansa," She winced as pain rolled through her again.

"Yes?" She saw the look on Brienne's face and jumped up. "Oh my! Are you alright?"

She smiled slightly as her pain subsided again. "Yes, but could you bring the maester?"

"Oh my goodness! Are you having the baby?" She looked at her with excitement and alarm.

"I believe so." She laughed as Sansa paled. "Well, not _right_ now, but I think it is beginning."

"Oh, well that is good." She looked like she might faint.

"Sansa... the maester?"

"Right!" She fled the room as quickly as she could.

Breinne smiled again and ran her hand over the swell of her stomach. "Okay little one, lets just get through this, alright?"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: This was actually a very hard chapter to write. I just had a hard time in editing and kept feeling like it wasn't enough. Also, I have been truly lucky in labor. My first kid came in 8 hours and my second in 4 hours... I don't have any idea how a long labor feels.

Chapter 9

Brienne's screams reverberated through the corridors. Labor had been far too long and her cries were becoming more and more despairing. Selwyn paced helplessly outside the door along with Arya. Sansa had been in caring for Brienne since fetching Maester Myrton and the widow woman, Clara, the night before. They all knew that they were in dangerous territory. The child should have been born by now and with each passing hour the risk of losing Brienne and the baby increased.

Sansa came out of the room to get fresh water and linens. Selwyn rushed to her. Sansa's eyes were dull and heavy from fatigue. Her hair had been pulled back, but some had fallen loose and was caked to her face with sweat. He searched her face for any sign of hope that things were finally going better. Her eyes met his briefly before looking down to her hands.

"I'm sorry Lord Selwyn, there has been no progress." Another cry echoed from the room. Sansa drew in a ragged breath, "You should probably spend some time at the sept."

Sansa quickly departed to attend her duties. Selwyn was frozen. He had lost everyone else. Not Brienne as well. He couldn't bear it. He was certain that his heart would stop if hers did. Without a word he made his way to the sept to pray leaving Arya to stand alone in the hall. They didn't have a godswood on Tarth- not that she prayed to her father's gods anymore. She hadn't been a follower of her mother's faith either. She wasn't sure if the Many-Faced God would hear her outside the House of Black and White. So she just stood there and listened to the screams.

Selwyn entered the large, lowly lit sept. The building had been designed to be lit by the sun, but in winter the sun was hidden more often than not. It didn't matter. It could be black as night and he would still know his way around. He had spent much of his time there since Brienne had left to join Renly and it hadn't slowed when he learned she was to be mother. He knelt before the Father. This was his usual alter to pray upon. Today though, it was just the first. He begged the father to allow him to keep his only living child. That if a life was required, to take his and spare his child. Of all the people in the world, she did not deserve to die so young. Then he asked the Mother to be merciful to their mother-to-be and to give her the strength to live. He moved to the Maiden. He wasn't quite certain what to ask of her, except to spare his daughter despite her tarnished virtue, for she was still such an innocent child. He prayed to the Smith to guide the maester and give him the tools to help his daughter. He asked the crone to embody the widow woman to pull them all through with her knowledge and wisdom. He asked the Warrior to give his daughter and her child the strength to survive in this battle against an unforgiving enemy. She had always served him, and he hoped it had not been in vain. Finally, he approached the Stranger. No father wanted to kneel before the Stranger in regard to his child. He simply asked the Stranger to stay away from his family until it was his time to go. He sat in silence for a while before returning to his post beyond his daughter's door.

The second night drug on like day before it. Just after midnight, Clara convinced Maester Myrton to give her milk of the poppy, despite the effects it could have on the child. Brienne's strength had been fading and if she didn't get some relief, they would lose her. Brienne had protested until Sansa swore she would stay beside her and protect her as Brienne had done for her. Reluctantly, Brienne nodded her head. She was beyond exhausted. She had never felt more pain and unrelenting at that. The first day hadn't been too dreadful, but as time drug on, she was given less and less reprieve. It felt like someone had taken a blacksmith's hammer to her lower back. The pain that ripped through her abdomen was sheer agony that didn't rest any longer. And she was scared. She knew she shouldn't still be trying to birth her baby. She worried that she would lose her child. She was worried that they would both be lost. Her consciousness began to wane as the milk of the poppy did its job. She felt her body loosen and her mind grow fuzzy. She prayed this would give her the ability to go on before she drifted away.

The brief morning rays found Brienne with more strength. Her body had worked throughout the night, but she had been able to rest through it. The struggle continued with renewed energy until midday. Sansa held one leg and the maester held the other as she pushed with everything she had in her. Clara was giving them direction as she stood between Brienne's legs to help guide the child from her body. With a few more world renting pushes and a burning sensation that made her believe she was actually on fire- she felt the child slip from her body.

The room was silent. There were no tiny wails that should fill the room. There was no excited doting over the newborn babe. Brienne didn't need them to tell her that her baby was gone. Sansa tried to hide her face from her so that she wouldn't see her tears, but it was far too difficult with her hair pinned up. Maester Myrton cut the cord that attached the child to her body and took over helping her expel the afterbirth while Clara wiped the baby clean and wrapped the tiny body in a blanket.

"He was a boy." She said quietly as she brought him to his mother.

Brienne wasn't sure she could bear holding him. She had wanted nothing more for so long, but he was just an empty shell. He never even drew his first breath. Her heart broke as Clara rested him into her arms. He was beautiful. She stared at him for some time, praying she would see his chest rise and fall with life and his eyes flutter. He remained still.

"Sansa," Brienne's voice was ragged from the hours of screaming and weight of her grief.

"Yes, Brienne?" She was right beside her, yearning for a sign of life as well.

"Would you bring the clothes you made? Um, the one you made with Tarth colors and Sandor's sigil. And the direwolf blanket. Those are what he shall be buried in."

"Of course." Her hand skimmed the fine chestnut hair on his tiny head before resting it on Brienne's hand. "I am so sorry Brienne."

Brienne couldn't look at her for she was certain she would break if she did. They had both shared so much excitement and hope for the future. What was there now? If Winterfell still stood, Sansa and Arya would go home and resume their lives. Would she even go with them? She was their sworn sword, but being home and knowing how much her father and Tarth needed her for the future weighed heavily upon her. And Sandor was right to believe she would change her mind. She did want a family- she just hadn't known before. While she desperately wanted Sandor, she would have been satisfied with only their son. If he had died or simply didn't want them, she believed she would have been content with what she had. Now she was lost again. She thought she had been lost so many times before- when Renly died, when Jaime left her with Locke at Harrenhal, as she rode away from Winterfell with the Stark girls. Those events seemed so trivial now.

She stared at his perfect face as Sansa left the room. She heard her father bellow his anguish in the hall. They did not come in. She wondered if Sansa had asked them not to just yet or if they just knew she would need some time. She reached up to run her fingers along his cheek and around his tiny ear. Her hand ran along the fine hair that Sansa had stroked moments ago. He was so perfect. She wondered what had gone wrong. He seemed no larger than any other baby. Had she worried too much? She had tried not to. She had support all around her, after all, but the Maester had warned her... Had she eaten improperly? With winter heavily upon them, it had been hard to find a good balance. She had stopped sparring moons ago. She had tried to do everything right. Why wasn't he alive?

Sansa slipped back in quietly. She set the articles on the bed by her hip before turning to the Maester and Clara. Brienne could faintly hear her ask them if she needed any further, _immediate_ , attention. They must not have needed to tend to her right away because she heard Sansa beckoning them to leave the room with her.

Once she was alone, Brienne moved the baby in front of her. One hand held his head while the other hand and arm supported his body. She couldn't look away from him. She hadn't picked out a name for him. She simply hadn't been able to come up with one. She had considered naming him after her father or brother or Sandor himself, but she discarded them. She had hoped to give him his own name, but she found that she was useless when it came to names. Her mind spun around and around. He had to have a name. It wasn't right to bury him as "Baby Storm."

"Duncan." She whispered. After she had begun training with Ser Goodwin, she had found a beautiful shield hidden away in the armory. She had never seen the likes of it before. As she did a bit of reading in her father's library, she discovered that the shield was painted with Ser Duncan's personal sigil. When she asked her father how it had ended up on Tarth, he simply told her that it had just been something collected long ago. She felt that he knew more. Yes, Ser Duncan was Kingsguard, Lord Commander even, but many men fathered children despite their vows. Jaime had fathered three after all. She didn't know if she had descended from him, but she was going to use the name regardless.

She gently laid him on the bed between her legs and unwrapped the linen blanket. She held his tiny hands between her large fingers for a moment. He was already so cold. She let go and reached for the clothing she had requested. She had never touched a baby before and dressing him was awkward. She knew he couldn't feel anything, but she was incredibly careful anyway. Once he was clothed, she lifted him so that she could slide the new blanket under him and wrap him up. She didn't have the strength to stand, so she cradled him in her arms again and rested until someone returned.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Lord Selwyn had ordered a hole to be dug in the family grounds. Brienne had wanted Duncan laid to rest before nightfall. She knew it was no small task as the ground was frozen, but she needed this to be over. She had to stop holding him, hoping that she would see life that would never come, and the only way she was going to let him go was when she put him in the ground. There would be no ceremony in the sept. Just her family together to lay him in the ground. While they waited, Selwyn had come in to see his daughter. He understood what she was going through. He had lost three perfect children- though he had not carried them. He had shared the excitement and dreams of the future with his wife. He remembered laying in bed with his hand on her stomach and feeling the tiny movements each of his children made. His heart broke for his own child. He imagined that she sat in bed alone with her hands on her stomach to feel her babe move while she thought on the future. He no longer cared that she wasn't married. He had seen how excited she was and it was all he had wanted for her.

Sansa had been moving about her room to pick up the soiled linens and remove dirty basins of water. Arya had come in as well, but she didn't have anything comforting to say. She was sad and she knew Brienne was hurting, but she didn't have the words. She wasn't sure Brienne even knew they were in there. She was drifting between staring at her son and staring out her window. If she knew they were there, she was not acknowledging them. She decided that she would always keep herself supplied with moon tea whether she married or not- she would not go through what Brienne was going through.

When everything was in order, Sansa and Selwyn helped Brienne walk to the wagon to be taken to the burial ground. She was so weak that she was barely able to make it to the wagon. She hated the show of helplessness, but she scarce had a choice. She had been grateful that her father had insisted that he be buried with their family in the grand meadow atop a hill that overlooked the sea. It was a phenomenal place. There were wildflowers that bloomed in the spring and summer in amazing colors that were a vibrant contrast to the sapphire seas beyond and lush, green grass covering the land. There were trees that shaded the graves from the summer sun and coated the ground in red and gold in autumn. He would rest easy there with her mother and her siblings. While she knew that their bodies and graves were merely symbols after death, she felt at peace with him being there.

The sky was black when they reached their destination. The torches were burning bright, leading the way and surrounding the small party with light. Sansa and Selwyn had resumed their positions at Brienne's sides to aide her steps. She was lost in her mind as they moved forward. She couldn't take her eyes off his face. She never wanted to forget the way he looked. She was never going to get to look upon him again. She could feel hot tears on her cheeks. Everything was feeling so real now and so very final. She hadn't been ready for this. She had been ready for crying and feeding and swaddling. She had been ready for first steps and first words and first injury. She had been ready to teach him how to swim and ride a horse and swing a sword. She had not been ready for silence or sorrow or darkness, but that is what she had been left with. She wasn't ready to let him go when they arrived at the freshly dug grave. Arya was the most agile and she hopped down into the hole. It wasn't too deep, but Brienne was not going to be able to reach the bottom even as she sat on the ground. Arya had brought one of her beautiful wolf pelts from Winterfell with them and laid it on the cold ground. She knew it truly wouldn't matter, but it just felt more appropriate. She smoothed the fur out and waited for Brienne to relinquish the body of her child. Brienne's tears fell more freely as she kissed his soft forehead and hugged him close. She held him like that for a moment before she hesitantly placed him in Arya's arms. She hadn't held a baby since Rickon was born. She rarely felt emotions like sorrow any longer, but looking at this baby that should have been a bright new life in their dark world- she felt it keenly.

Arya knelt on the fur and gently laid Duncan in the center. She reached to her belt and pulled a smaller version of Needle from it. When she had learned of Brienne's child, she had the sword made for him, or her as they didn't know what it would be. She wasn't sentimental, but Jon giving her Needle was one of the finest moments in her life and she had wanted to do that for Brienne's child. It had been finished and waiting in her chambers for it's home at his side and now it would be with him forever. Brienne was overcome when the tiny sword was laid next to him. She knew Arya was very much like her and that fur and that sword were more precious than anything she could imagine. It was Arya's way to show how much she cared for Brienne and Duncan, even before he had been born. She felt a bit guilty feeling so sad and so sorry for herself when she was surrounded by so much love.

Arya gracefully pulled herself from the grave. Everyone stood in silence with the exception of Brienne, who sat. Brienne had planned to pray like the others, but when the time came she wasn't sure why. Her son had met the Stranger hours before. No prayers would guide him further nor bring him back. She waited for what felt an appropriate amount of time before she struggled to stand on her own. Sansa and Selwyn were upon her immediately to help her up. All but two torchbearers lit the path back to the wagon. The remaining two stayed behind with Arya, who had taken on the task of filling in the grave.

When Brienne was back in her chambers and in her bed, she could feel the physical pain that came from her exertion. Her entire body throbbed. Days of labor had left her muscles well passed strained and she felt as though her entrails would fall out from between her legs. She writhed in bed in an attempt to relieve the pain, but there was none to be found.

"Lord Selwyn, I will see if the maester will bring some milk of the poppy to help her." Sansa spoke quietly before she left the room.

Selywn wasn't given the opportunity to respond so he just nodded his head as the door closed behind her. He knelt beside Brienne's bed, which had been freshened while they were gone. She was on her side, her eyes pinched closed and her body rocking slightly in agony. He reached out and grasped her hand. There was nothing he could do or say that would make her feel better. He had felt helpless many times and it never grew easier. He was the Evanstar, for goodness sake. He ruled his people with confidence, fairness, and compassion. He was not meant to be helpless. Yet, when it came to his family, he had no control and it pained him. Soon, Sansa had returned with a small vial of the white liquid. It took some work to convince Brienne to drink it, but finally the vial was empty and the effects took hold.

 _Brienne stirred awake. She was so warm and content. She could feel skin pressed against her back and she realized that she was naked and there was someone with her. She stretched and the arm around her pulled her closer. For some reason, she was not alarmed at this. She rolled over and found herself looking at Sandor. She smiled at him and he pulled her into a kiss. It was like they hadn't been apart. Their legs tangled and slid against each other. Suddenly he felt less solid- his dense bulk pressing against her was dissipating until he turned to ash and he scattered in a sudden wind. She jumped out of the bed and she was fully clothed, in wool and fur. There was snow billowing all around her as the bed and the room faded away. Inside the furs she held her son against her. He was older and had bright blue eyes with that chestnut colored hair. He was watching the snowflakes fall with such wonder. She was so confused. What was happening? Where was she? This had to be a dream, but she felt awake. Sandor's body had felt so real just as the child in her arms did. They could not be real for her child was not alive. She willed herself to wake up as he became lighter in her arms. **No, no! Don't take him from me again**. Then, just like Sandor had, he melted away into ash and was carried away by the wind. She dropped to her knees, sobbing. The world around her was white and empty. A voice was calling out to her, but she couldn't see the source. She struggled to stand, but she couldn't get up. It was like she was tied down. She started fighting against bonds that she couldn't see. The voice was getting louder, but she couldn't see... She was trapped in the white vastness._

Her eyes shot open and she found Tully blue eyes looking down at her. It was daytime as there was dim light filtering into her chambers. She was covered in sweat, her shift and bedding was sticking to her skin. She was nauseous and pain rolled through her body with every breath she took.

"No dreamwine. No Milk of the Poppy." Brienne managed to say.

"You were in pain. You needed some relief so you could rest." Sansa's voice was calm.

She shook her head, "That was not rest."

Sansa nodded. "Can I get you anything? Something to eat? Or mayhaps drink?"

"No. I don't want anything."

"It has been 4 days since you have eaten. You need something."

"I don't think I can eat. I just want to sleep. Please, see if Maester Myrton has Essence of Nightshade.

"Are you sure?"

"I am, Sansa." She realized how harsh she was being. "Please?"

"I will request it on the condition that you will eat something when you wake up. It doesn't need to be much, but you have to try."

"Fine." Satisfied with Brienne's answer, Sansa did as she said she would. She promptly returned with a small glass of wine with three drops in it. She wasn't about to bring the bottle. Soon, Brienne was asleep again.

Sansa was determined to be there for Brienne. After she had come to her rescue when she and Theon had fled Winterfell... She owed her everything. Ramsey was a monster. She didn't even want to imagine what he would have done to her if she had been returned to him that night. Brienne had been her gallant Knight- despite her sex. By law, however, Brienne would hold no such title. She was a Lady, almost equal to that of Sansa. By birth, she was no servant though she pledged to serve the Stark children. Sansa had been cared for her entire life and partook in all that being a Lady offered her. Brienne had foregone such comforts and spent her life in the training yard. She had not allowed herself to simply be cared for. But now Sansa would care for Brienne as she deserved. She would serve her in the only way she knew how. She needed someone to push her to live. Sansa would not allow her to waste away.


	11. Chapter 11

Brienne fought Sansa every day she remained abed. The first battle of wills came over a meal. Brienne had no desire to eat. Her stomach was torn apart from childbirth and mourning. Sansa did not back down. Brienne eventually conceded and took a few bites of the barley and onion stew in exchange for Sansa leaving her alone. When Sansa had gone, Brienne had tried to move about her room. She was restless and hated being caged like an animal. She tired far too quickly. Her body was shifting back into place now that there was no child inside of her. She hadn't imagined it would be harder to breathe now that it had been before. She could hardly catch her breath with the small amount of exercise the had done. She held onto the wall and took several deep breaths before shuffling back to bed.

She wanted more night shade. She wanted to sleep without the dreadful dreams she had been having. She wanted to sleep the days away until it didn't hurt anymore. She also wanted to be alone and she would have to ask Sansa for the wonderful liquid. She didn't trust Brienne to keep the vial. It was probably wise on her part, Brienne knew, but it still insulted her. She knew she should be more kind to Sansa. She was only trying to help. She was her friend. She was also a reminder of how happy Brienne had been. She had been the first person to give her hope in the future that was now gone. Those thoughts hurt too much. So she would distance herself from them in the only way she could- and that was to push Sansa as far away as she could.

Everyday Sansa would come and try to keep Brienne going. And everyday, Brienne would push her away. Sansa was relentless, however. She may not stay long each day, but she never stopped coming and trying to keep Brienne fed and hydrated. This was not always as easy task. Brienne was the most stubborn person she had ever encountered. Sansa wanted so badly to be her friend again, but Brienne was making it very clear that she no longer wanted a friendship with her. She barely tolerated her presence and the most useful tactic Sansa has was to bargain using her absence as the reward. It hurt her more than she ever thought it would. She had been deceived, betrayed, used, sold, and blatantly disregarded by nearly everyone over the years, but she hadn't thought Brienne would be capable of such bitterness. She knew it was petty. Brienne had suffered a terrible loss and she could not imagine how she would react if roles were reversed. Sansa had made a vow, though, and she would not give up. She would see Brienne through this.

Nearly a fortnight had passed and Brienne was done being an invalid. She had stopped bleeding, for the most part, and was feeling human again. She had been walking around her room and even out in the corridor when no one was around which was always. Most everyone stayed away from her. She had been eating more recently. Sansa barely had to urge her. She wasn't going to be left to sleep the days away nor would she be allowed to just slowly fade away. So she may as well regain her strength and begin training again. She rose long before Sansa's regular visit to her room. She wrapped her engorged breasts as tight as she could. They were incredibly painful. She wished her body understood that she had no child to feed. She dressed in clothes that would allow her to move in the training yard. Her breeches were still tight around her hips and waist. The sooner she began training, the sooner she would be herself again, she reasoned. She left her room and ventured out to the yards.

"Brienne? What are you doing down here?" Arya asked when Brienne approached her and her sparring partner. He was a young squire who was trying to learn the maneuvers that Arya was so fluid with.

"What do you think I am doing? It is time to get back to work." She replied dryly.

"I don't think you should be out here yet." Arya was speaking quietly, not wanting to let others hear her.

"I'm fine." She positioned herself and tapped the ground with the dull point of the practice sword.

Arya sighed and shook her head. She held Needle in one had. There was no practice sword that was fit for her, so she always sparred with it. She advanced and Needle made a broad swoop to Brienne. Metal clanged when Brienne blocked. They circled around each other for some time, metal singing when the blades touched. Arya moved slowly and her strikes were exaggerated to allow Brienne time to react. Within moments, however, Arya had Brienne disarmed. Despite the cold, Brienne was sweating. She retrieved her sword and advanced on Arya. Again, Arya had her disarmed. Again. And again. Brienne was growing frustrated. She had never been disarmed so easily, nor tired so quickly. She was panting from exertion. Her face red and glistening with sweat.

"I think we should call it a day." Arya offered.

"Again." Brienne panted.

"I really don't think that is a good idea."

"Again!" Brienne shouted as she charged at Arya.

Arya parried and blocked the blows Brienne dealt before dodging the larger woman and circling around behind her. As Brienne turned, Arya advanced. When Brienne moved to block, her balance waned and her legs gave out. She stumbled, but couldn't recover, and landed on her side in the dirt. Her pride was just as bruised as the rest of her would be. Arya made no move to help her up. She knew Brienne would not want to appear so weak. Brienne slowly and shakily rose to her feet. Arya saw that she was going to try and continue until Ser Goodwin made his way to Brienne and grasped her arm to lead her away while telling her that her father requested her presence. She simply nodded before throwing the sword to the ground and limped away.

Ser Goodwin Walked alongside her until they were clear of the yard. He hadn't wanted to humiliate her in front of her men. They would be hers one day, after all, and they didn't need to see her chastised like a child.

"What were you thinking?" He asked harshly.

"I am sick of being in bed."

"So, you decided to come down here and get yourself hurt?"

"I felt fine. I didn't realize it would be so difficult to get back to where I was."

"Brienne, just give yourself time." He spoke more kindly.

"I don't want to give myself more time. I just..." Tears pricked at her eyes, "I just need things to go back the way they were."

"Brienne, things will never be the way they were."

"They have to be. Or what's the point of going on?"

"You are still young. You have a very long future ahead of you."

"One without my son." She let out a shaky breath, "And likely one without his father. What a dreadful future."

 __

 _One Year Later..._

The excitement on the ship as it docked in White Harbor was palpable. They had done it. The Night King had been defeated and winter had blossomed into spring. Ravens flew in from all over the mainland, but the one from Podrick Payne had been the most pleasing. Brienne was elated to know he was alive. His skill had only been mediocre when she had last seen him and his chances of survival were less than most. While she had not wanted to think of him dying so young, she had not thought the odds were in his favor.

Leaving Tarth had been very difficult for Brienne. She had accepted that she would be the Evanstar after her father. He was not a young man and he would not live forever. She also knew that he would father no other children for the task. He had been wonderful in accepting her son in spite of everything. She needed to be the heir he deserved.

Now, however, she had one more war to survive and protect the Starks through. Those who had just battled in the frigid winter would be getting what rest they could before going back to war with Cersei and her armies. It was unfair that the surviors had to march off again so soon, but it was the way of the world right now. Once these battles end, however, there would peace. The Stark girls already knew Brienne would return home to Tarth once Danaerys was on the Iron Throne. They would be safe in truth and her oath fulfilled.

The moment spring had washed upon Tarth, it was time to leave. As soon as ships could sail, they would be able to go which also meant others would be able to arrive. If Cersei was taking back the south then the Stormlands, and thus Tarth, would be in her grasp. During winter, the islands had been safe from ships, but no longer. She had told her father to bend the knee to Cersei. She would not see him killed because that mad woman willed it. They had removed Duncan's marker to hide his identity and they had agreed that he would tell the crown she had been disinherited for her dishonors- serving the traitorous Starks, for not behaving a proper Lady thus humiliating himself and Tarth, and then birthing a bastard child of some foot solider. She knew he hated speaking about her that way, but she assured him that they would defeat Cersei and he would no longer be bound by lies. For now, she wanted him safe and Cersei would do anything she could to win.

Stepping off a ship had never been so sweet. White Harbor was a bustling town and the world was all new and full of life again.

"After you, My Ladies." Brienne bowed slightly and stepped aside for Arya and Sansa to pass.

"Brienne, you know you don't need to do that." Sansa said. After the loss of Duncan, Brienne had retreated back inside herself. As soon as she was able she had begun spending her days in the training yard with the knights. Arya saw more of her than Sansa did, though barely. It had taken several weeks for her to recover from the first day she had attempted to return. She built more slowly the second time and allowed herself to be built back up. Sansa had missed the relationship they had forged and now, back on the mainland, she was all business. It hurt Sansa more than she could express.

"Until we defeat Cersei, I am still sworn to you... To serve you. We are not equals here." Brienne said matter-of-factually.

A young man approached the trio of ladies as their feet touched solid ground. It took them a moment to recognize Podrick Payne. He had grown a beard that he kept short and neat. His entire demeanor and stature presented a more mature man than they had left behind. His eyes were still kind, but beneath them lurked the memories of war.

"My Ladies." He bowed to them.

"Pod, you look well." Brienne said with a broad smile.

"As do you, My Lady." He returned her smile with one of his own. "Our horses are right over here." Podrick lead them through the crowded streets to where their horses were tied. There was a boy with them, checking tack and supplies for the ride back to Winterfell. "That is Devon, my squire."

"Your squire?"

"Yes. I am Ser Podrick now." He stood a bit taller as he announced his status.

Brienne smiled and clasped his shoulder, "Good for you. You deserve it."

Every one got a glimpse of the boy he had been when he smiled shyly at her. Truth be told, he had never thought it would happen.

After all introductions had been made, they mounted up to head towards the Kingsroad. There was so much Brienne wanted to ask. Who was alive? Who had they lost? What was the status of Cersei's army? How soon would they be up against her? Then her mind wandered to Sandor and the questions she would never ask. Was he dead? Is that why he had not come to see them home? Or did he not really care for her? Was what they had only due to the war and now that they had won, he was over it? She was certainly no prize and after helping to defeat the Night King, he would be considered a hero. He could have any woman...

"Lady Brienne," Podrick's voice broke into her darkening thoughts, "I think there is something you should know before we arrive in Winterfell."

"Alright." This was it. He was going to tell her Sandor was dead or had married some Northern beauty. She wasn't sure which would be worse.

"Jaime Lannister and I fought side by side much of the time. He saved me more times that I can remember. He was so brave and skilled. It was as though nothing affected him, it was all about the battle. He lived for that thrill. He knighted me on the battlefield after I killed a Wight that had him bested." Podrick paused.

"Jaime has always been a better man than anyone gave him credit for. A stupid man, but a good man."

Podrick nodded. "He fell in battle not long before we defeated the Night King. I was there, but I had not been able to save him as he had done so many times for me. He told me to take Widow's Wail, rename her, and carry her. After his last breath, I burned his body."

Brienne's heart skipped a beat. Jaime was dead? That couldn't be. She had never once considered that he could be killed. She wouldn't cry here. Not in front of everyone, but she knew she would not be able to stop her grief once she was alone in her chambers. He was her friend. He knew more about her than anyone and she knew more about him than even his sister. She was never going to speak to him again. Why hadn't she said good-bye to him before she rode away?

"Jaime must have thought very highly of you Ser Podrick. He was not the type to knight men who did not deserve it. Thank you for being the one there at the end." She wasn't sure what she should say. She could see that Pod had grown to admire the man and it had been very hard to lose him. She had a feeling that there had been significant loss and many would be grieving.

"He was proud of you, My Lady." Podrick stated. "He spoke of you often. He said he was a better man because of you."

She couldn't help the tear the escaped her eye. Sansa was riding next to her. She pretended not to notice. Brienne wouldn't want anyone, even her, to see her weak again. The days of their friendship were gone.

"Jaime always had it in him. He had just lost himself along the way." Brienne said quietly. She took a deep breath. She might as well ask now, "Who all did we lose?"

"We lost many of the Wildlings. Tormund still lives, but he was badly wounded and may not survive. We lost about half of the common folk- there just hadn't been enough time to train them well enough and the battles had been savage and relentless. A few brothers in black fell. Jon lives, as does Danaerys- though things have changed quite a bit there."

"Any news of Sandor?" She had to ask. Podrick was tip toeing around it she could tell.

"He is missing." Podrick turned to look at her briefly. "Oathkeeper was found on the battlefield after the final days. No one remembers seeing him fall nor does anyone remember burning his body. There was no one who had risen again who matched his description. There are houses all across the North who took in wounded throughout the war. He could be in one of them. We haven't had a chance to check them all and see who we still have among the missing."

Brienne just nodded. She wasn't sure she should hope that he was alive or not. Sansa and Arya launched into asking about Jon and Bran. Brienne caught bits and pieces, but she was lost in her own mind and didn't really hear them.

It hadn't seemed like they had been riding long enough for dark to settle in, but Brienne was pulled out of her mind when Podrick announced that they would make camp for the night. She wondered how far they had ridden. They would make better time in the spring with the warm weather and clear roads than they had in the winter. She really should have been paying better attention. She was on duty again. It was her job to keep Arya and Sansa safe. She could not let that happen again.

Everyone dismounted and set up camp. Brienne insisted upon setting up Sansa and Arya's tent. Arya insisted upon hunting, much to Brienne's displeasure. She didn't want the girls out of her sight out here. There could still be hostilities from winter, or southern forces lurking about that would be well paid to bring one of the Starks to the queen.

Soon, camp was set and a fire was burning bright. Podrick had assured Brienne that it would be alright. Southern forces were still south and had not moved to come north. Arya returned with a few rabbits. It wasn't much, but it would feed them all well for the evening. Devon set to work skinning the rabbits and cooking them. No one spoke. Podrick knew that much had changed. It had been nearly two years after all, but there seemed to be so much more. They ate in silence. After the meal, Arya and Podrick sparred a bit. She was still better than he was, but he had gotten much better. His skill and coordination had increased ten-fold.

Brienne volunteered for first watch as everyone began to tire. Podrick couldn't help his small smile. She always took first watch and usually second- refusing to give up the control she had over each situation. The Starks retired to their tent and Devon made his way to his bedroll and collapsed into sleep. Podrick came to sit next to Brienne.

"Are you alright?" He asked her.

"Yes. It is just a lot to take in. I never considered Jaime could die." She shook her head and looked up into the trees to keep from crying. She had been so much more emotional since...

"I know. I don't think anyone did. He had that arrogant confidence that made you believe he was invincible." Pod smiled and Brienne laughed. That was exactly how he was.

"I should have stayed here." She knew that she would have been useless in the war, heavy with child, but she hadn't anything to show for it anyway. At least in battle she would have been some help. Mayhaps she would have lost the child much earlier, before she had even known about him. It would have been far less painful.

"I don't know if it would have made a difference. Other than Sandor not being able to focus on anything except for you."

She blushed at that. "You don't really believe that."

"I do. He missed you." When he looked over at her she was looking at the ground. "Brienne, what happened?"

"It has just been so long... I wonder where I belong anymore." She had decided that she was not going to tell anyone about her child. He was gone and buried and was going to leave it that way. "You should get some rest, Pod."

With that, he knew their conversation was over. He bid her goodnight and retired to his bedroll.


	12. Chapter 12

There was nearly as much bustle in Winterfell when they arrived as there had been when they departed. Able soldiers were being fed and built back up to go back to battle, though this enemy was more forgiving. When you killed them, they stayed dead. The rooms of Winterfell were filled with wounded men and women recovering from the war. Some would go on to fight Cersei and her army of sellswords while others would return to their homes.

Brienne was given her old chamber around the hall from Sansa's. Once inside, she sat on the bed. She remembered her and Jaime sitting there together when he had arrived alone. She couldn't believe that she would never get to talk to him again. She would never get to hear him joke about being able to beat her again. She would miss him more that she could have imagined. If someone had told her that she would grow to care so much for this man the day they left Riverrun with him in chains, she would have called them mad.

Her mind left Jaime and she thought about the last night she spent in that bed. The night she had brought Sandor there. She almost couldn't remember his touch anymore. Why was she even holding on so tight to this? She wondered if she had imagined these feelings after so long. Maybe they weren't ever there, but her mind had created them over time like it had for Renly. Maybe all it had been was sex. Nothing more.

She was tired. She wanted to lie in bed and grieve, but it was still early. She should go check in with Sansa and Arya and Jon. She should see where she was needed for the next war and make an appearance in the training yard. She needed to let everything go and focus on her duties. When this war was won, she would return to Tarth and she could spend the rest of her life coming to terms with everything she had lost. Now was not the time.

Meanwhile, Sansa had asked to speak to Podrick in private after Brienne had departed to take her things to her room. Sansa was careful not to bump into Brienne on their way to her chambers. Once inside, Sansa barred the door and turned to him.

"I am worried about Brienne. She won't talk to me anymore, but maybe she will talk to you."

"What happened on Tarth? I asked her, but she said nothing."

She knew Brienne would not speak of it, but she didn't care. Brienne had pushed her away anyway- what more would she do? "Brienne had a son."

"A son?"

"She didn't know she was with child until we had been in Tarth for some time."

"Sandor's?"

"Yes."

"Did she leave him behind? Is that what plagues her so?"

"He didn't live." She shook her head. "She had been so happy, but she had been on the birth bed for days... It was too long and he wasn't alive when he was born. He was beautiful and perfect and we don't know why he did not live. She shut herself off from us after that. I know she doesn't want anyone to know. I think it is because it is too painful for her, but she never allowed herself grieve or anything. She just... stopped. It was like she had shut off her feelings."

"It is what she does." Pod shook his head. Poor Brienne. She was the strongest, most honorable person he had ever met. She didn't deserve that pain. "I will speak to her, but I must do something first."

Sansa nodded.

"I will be back as swiftly as I am able."

"Where are you going?"

"To find Sandor. He must be in one of the houses that took in wounded. I will find him and return."

"I do hope you find him."

He nodded and left the room. Sansa departed soon after to find Jon. She had learned that he was not in fact "Jon" in truth, but she didn't care. He would always be Jon to her.

Brienne had made her way to the courtyard. So much had changed. There were so many that she didn't recognize. She looked for Podrick, but he was nowhere to be seen. She finally spotted Arya and asked where he was. She said that he had left, but she didn't know where he was going.

Brienne had accepted that and went to find Jon. She was eager to get started where ever it was that she was needed. She wanted to stop thinking.

She recognized Sansa's hair immediately upon entering the great hall. Jon and Danearys were there. It seemed to be quite the reunion. Everyone was smiling and laughing.

"Your Grace." Brienne said with a bow as she entered the hall. Sansa froze. Breinne thought that odd until she heard the sounds of a child. Sansa was holding a babe in her arms. It was Brienne's turn to freeze. _Fuck. Could she never escape this?_

Jon smiled at her. "Lady Brienne! Thank you for everything you have done for my family. We are forever in your debt." He put his arm around Danearys.

"Your Grace." She managed to speak and bow to her.

"This is our daughter, Visenya." He patted the child on the head. She had short blonde curls and bright violet eyes. She was smiling as only a baby could, two tiny teeth bright white against her pink mouth.

"Congratulations. She is lovely." Brienne felt so much anger. Why had they been given a child and hers was taken away. Her son would be that age by now. He should be smiling and giggling and... _Stop. Just stop_. "I would like to know where you would like me in the upcoming battles so that I may get to work."

"Please, you must be tired from your journey. We can discuss this in a few days. First you should eat, rest, and get settled." Sansa shifted uncomfortably. She knew how much this must be hurting Brienne. She wished she could say something.

"With all due respect Your Grace, I would prefer to get started immediately." Brienne needed to get out of that room and away from them.

"Truth be told, I have not thought about it. Please, enjoy one evening of peace and I will get you an assignment on the morrow."

Brienne bowed and left swiftly. Sansa handed the child back to her mother and followed Brienne out. She had to jog to catch up to her.

"Brienne, I'm sorry. I had arrived just before you. I would have warned you had there been time."

"You have no reason to be sorry, Lady Sansa. It is a very happy thing and that child is part of your family. You have every reason to be happy." She wanted to be in her room. She wanted to be alone.

"Brienne, please. I know you must be hurting."

"I am fine."

"Brienne..."

"Sansa, please. Just let me do my job. Just... Just let me forget." They had finally reached her chamber and Brienne quickly entered, closing the door behind her. Sansa was left in the corridor alone.

Once she was alone in her room, she removed her armor. She lifted her tunic and looked at herself in the mirror. She ran her hand along her stomach- it was flat and toned once again. It seemed impossible that it held a child. The only sign that it had actually happened was the flurry of stripes below her belly button where her skin had stretched. She wondered why she had even come back. She had seen the Stark girls home and safe... She was fulfilled wasn't she? She hadn't needed to come back here. She should have stayed on Tarth with her father.

She hadn't realized how hard it would be to come back and pretend nothing had happened. She hadn't considered that they would have lost so many. She wanted to talk to Jaime. She wanted to talk to Sansa, but she didn't know how. Sansa had spoken about Sandor in a way that no one else had. Sansa had been there and shared her joy and hope for the future. She had been the first person she had opened up to in a long time. She had kept her alive after Duncan's death. She didn't know why she had pushed her away so hard. She regretted it more than she would admit, but it was too late to change it.

Finally, Brienne sat on the bed. The weight of everything rested heavily upon her. She wasn't hungry. So she just laid on the bed and willed sleep to overtake her.


	13. Chapter 13

Brienne had been assigned to the Vanguard. She would be marching right into the heart of things. Sansa had begged Jon not to send her there. That she wished to return home after this war not to die in it. Jon had insisted that it was where she was needed and would do the most good. Brienne had been pleased with her assignment. She been training and running drills with the main army for five days. For the first time since they had left Winterfell before the Great War, she felt like she had propose again.

Sansa had kept her distance since she had asked her to let her forget. She assumed it was the only thing Sansa felt she could do. She had learned that Jon was not, in fact, Jon, or a Snow. He may have bent the knee to Danaerys, but it seemed it had not been necessary. And once they had discovered she was with child, they decided to marry. They wanted to solidify the claim to the iron throne and more so, the heir to the iron throne- Visenya. Sansa had spent a lot of time with her new family member. Brienne was happy for them- she truly was. She simply couldn't be around the child.

Everyone was gathered for their evening meal in the great hall when Podrick returned from his quest. He looked tired, but pleased. He found Brienne quickly and rushed to her.

"Ser Podrick? Is everything alright?"

"I found him." He was breathless. He must have made great haste to find her.

"Who?"

"Sandor, I found him. He is at a smaller keep just inland of Sea Dragon Point."

"Let's go." She stood and turned to leave with him.

"Please, go let Sansa know."

She nodded and walked to the head table the held the royal family. She bowed to Sansa, "My Lady, Podrick has found Sandor. I ask for your leave to go to him."

"Of course!" Sansa jumped up and made her way around the table to grasp her hand, "Brienne, I know you don't want my company, but please, let me see you off."

She nodded and left the hall with her arm linked with Sansa's. They packed a few items from her room before Sansa stopped in the kitchen to get some food for their journey. They made their way to the stables where Devon had prepared all of their horses and gear. They still had a few hours of daylight left, so they may be able to get a good start.

"Sansa..."

"There is no time. Go. Make sure he is alright. We fix things when you return."

"Thank you." Brienne surprised even herself when she reached out and hugged the smaller woman. She released her just as quickly and mounted her horse. The trio departed as fast as they could go. They wanted to get some distance between them and Winterfell before they needed to make camp. Brienne was nervous. Podrick had found Sandor, but had only seen him for a moment. As soon as he was certain that it was Sandor, he had rushed back to get Brienne. She would want to be with him. Mayhaps heal both of them.

When darkness had fallen, they stopped for the night. Devon fed the horses while Podrick made a simple stew and Brienne laid out their bedrolls. This far north was still a bit cold at night, so she laid them around the fire. After they had eaten, Brienne said she would take first watch. Devon made his way to his bedroll and collapsed. He reminded her of Podrick, though more competent than when they first met. He slept like a rock. She remembered Pod sleeping through everything just like Devon was doing now. She sat on a log near the fire and began tending to her sword. She had taken to carrying Oathkeeper again. Podrick once again sat beside her.

"Brienne, from my understanding Sandor has been stricken with fever since his arrival. He has many wounds and his leg is broken. They have been trying to keep him sedated as he has been quite combative."

She laughed, "I am sure he has been. He is alive though?"

"He is alive."

"That is all that matters."

"Brienne, I know that I am not Jaime. You don't have to talk to me, but maybe you will listen. Sansa is worried about you."

"She is always worried about others."

"You know what I mean, Brienne."

"She had no right to tell you." She said quietly. She couldn't look at him. She wasn't sure if her eyes would betray her calm demeanor.

"Do you plan to tell him?"

"No. He has been part of the earth for a year. There is no reason to tell anyone."

"I am not going to tell you what you should do, but I would want to know. If it were my son, I would want to know." He had spoken his peace. This was her decision to make. He rose and went to his own bedroll to sleep. Brienne looked out into the darkness and listened to the crackle of the fire. She still wasn't sure what to do.

They made excellent time the next day, arriving at the keep just before nightfall. The Lady of the house was curt old crone who had refused to allow Brienne to stay unless she dressed appropriate to her station. Podrick apologized, he had not known that would even be an issue. Begrudgingly, Brienne agreed to dawn a dress. There were many young women there. She learned that some were the old bat's family while others had been displaced due to the war. She was given a dress for the evening, and a few of the ladies took to altering several more for her to wear comfortably. As soon as she was deemed "presentable" she asked to see Sandor. Some of the girls appeared surprised that she was there for _him._

When she was lead to his room, it was dark outside. The fire in the hearth burned bright, however, and allowed her to see him for the first time in so long. She tentatively went to his side. He was pale and had lost a good amount of weight. She wondered if he looked like this after their battle. He looked weak despite his size. She pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down. She reached out and set her hand over his. He was so warm. The fever had a strong hold on him.

"Lady Brienne," One of the girls had been next to her, "Would you like me to show you to your room? He has had a heavy dose of milk of the poppy, he won't wake until morning."

"No, I am going to stay. Thank you. If you could have a room ready for my companions though, I would appreciate it. They traveled long and hard to bring me here."

The mousy girl bowed and shuffled the rest of the girls out of the room. The room was silent, save for the popping of the burning wood and Sandor's haggard breathing.

"Sandor, I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can, you have to live. You made it all the way through the war. You can't die now."

She heard no response, not that she expected one. He had been given much more milk of the poppy that she had been given, and she remembered how incapacitated she had been. She leaned back in the chair. She wasn't ready for sleep, so she just sat and watched him sleep.

The next morning began abruptly. Sandor had awoken in a combative haze. He fought against the girls who were trying to care for him. He fought against Brienne, though unlike those mousy little things, Brienne was stronger than he was. She held him down while one of the girls, she believed it was the only one who had spoken to her so far, tried to get him to drink some water. They also tried to get him to drink some broth. He fought the whole time, but they got a bit into him. She was sure these little bits were all that had been sustaining him. When they had done all they could, Brienne told them that he would only be getting a fraction of what they had been giving him of the milk of the poppy. He needed to wake. He needed to eat and drink more. He could get a full dose at nightfall to ensure he slept.

The girls were terrified of him, it was plain to see. He was given a small amount of milk of the poppy and he relaxed, though he remained conscious. Brienne tried talking to him, but he couldn't focus. She bathed him and requested clean bedding. She finally got the young girl's name, Jeyne, who seemed to be the boldest of the bunch. She had Jeyne help her change the bedding and made him comfortable again. She was able to get him to drink more and even eat something solid. She was exhausted by nightfall and gave him his full dose so that she could get some sleep as well.

The next few days drug on the same. He would awaken with a start and it took her holding him steady to get anything done. After everything calmed down, he was fairly easy to manage for the day. He seemed to be gaining some strength as each morning he was harder to handle. She held out a great deal of hope that his fever would break soon. Podrick and Devon had returned to Winterfell. They were fairly useless here anyway. Brienne had hardly been able to step away from Sandor to see them off, let alone spend time with them there. She simply continued to care for Sandor. She wasn't sure what else to do. He had been found and was alive. Now she just needed him to come back into the world.

The fifth morning was different. Instead of being awakened by a combative man as the sun rose, Brienne still slept as the sun climbed in the sky. She was in her chair where she had kept her vigil, but her head rested on her arms next his body on the bed. She hadn't heard him awaken, but startled awake when his hand brushed her cheek. She looked at him. He was looking at her strangely. She sat up and took his hand, his fever was gone.

"You're finally awake." She smiled at him.

"You're really here." He responded. "I feared it was only a dream."


	14. Chapter 14

"No, not a dream." She was overwhelmed. He seemed happy to see her. Were all of her fears and doubts unfounded? Had she been torturing herself in the event he had been killed. Would his death have not hurt so badly if he hadn't cared for her? She wasn't sure.

He tried to move, but the pain was too great. "What happened?"

"I am not sure, but you have been here for some time now. Your leg is broken, but mending no thanks to your outbursts. Most of your other wounds are doing fine now, but you had kept ripping them open upon waking each day."

"We won though? Right? Or you wouldn't be here."

"Yes, you won."

He pulled on her arm, "Come here." She stood and let him pull her close. His arms felt heavy and weak, but he reached for her face again. He caressed her cheek for a moment before pulling her mouth to his. He didn't ask for more. He just wanted to touch her again. He knew, however, that his breath was probably awful. She stroked his face before she pulled away.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Wine." She rolled her eyes, but went to find wine. It was then that he noticed she was in a dress. He chuckled a bit and wondered what on earth had prompted that.

She returned a few moments later with a wine skin full of Arbor Red. He took a few gulps before using the rest of the wine to swish his mouth out- spitting it out into the basin next to the bed.

"Now," He said with more confidence, "Come here again." He pulled her onto him again. This time, however, he really kissed her. His tongue begged her for entrance. She gladly obliged. He had missed her more than she would ever know. He broke the kiss for a moment, "What in seven hells are you wearing?"

She laughed. "Well, the Lady of the keep wouldn't allow me to stay here unless I dressed according to my station. So, here I am."

"I'm not complaining." He tugged at her skirts, trying to pull her onto the bed.

"What are you doing?!"

"What do you think I am doing? I have been too long without you..." He tugged at her again.

"Sandor!" She looked around, "We can't..."

"Why not?" He was suddenly worried. Had she moved on? What if her father married her off? Had she come to her senses and didn't want him anymore.

"Someone could walk in!"

"Then they will see me taking what is mine." He pulled at her again.

"We can't..." _Taking what's his?_

"What now?" He asked impatiently.

She looked around the room. It was bright with the spring sun streaming through the windows. They hadn't been together with so much light before. And she would be so tall and bulky on top of him... "I'm... I'm far too large to be on top of you." She admitted quietly.

"You are no such thing. You are perfect." He pulled her down into a kiss. When he felt her relax, he pulled on her some more. She resisted still. "Brienne, I am so hard for you. And, I am naked under these blankets..."

"That I am aware of. Who do you think has been taking care of you?"

He looked at her oddly, "Truly?"

"Feeding you, bathing you, changing your sheets. Yes. The girls of the keep are afraid of you."

"Then get up here. I owe you." He growled at her.

"Sandor... I don't know how to be here... On top of you." She bit her lip. He pulled her down to kiss her again and she gave in to him. He pulled her skirts up around her waist and tore her small clothes off. She reached below to pull the blankets away. Truth be told, she was just as ready for him as he was for her. There was little pretense when he guided her down onto him. They both groaned appreciatively. He placed his hands on her hips to help her move above him. Tiny sounds escaped her throat as they moved together. It hadn't taken long before his hands tightened on her hips to pull her off him for his release. He was almost done. She didn't care, her mind was too full to join him despite enjoying herself. She loved the way he felt inside her. She didn't want him to part from her when he climaxed. Her mouth left his to whisper in his ear.

"Don't"

"Brienne," He grunted as he came closer to the edge.

"I will get moon tea, just don't leave me." Her voice was low and breathless in his ear where her head rested next to his. How could he deny her? She kissed along his neck and down his throat. She couldn't help the smile that came to her lips as he groaned beneath her. She was quite enjoying being on top. Sandor's back arched and he pulled her hips tightly against him as he finished.

"I have missed you." She whispered in his ear. She slid off him and reached down to cover him with the blankets once again. How scandalized would the girls in the keep be to walk in on his naked body. She also thought that the dress the prude Lady of the keep had forced her to wear had made it so much more likely that she needed moon tea. She smiled at that thought. He kept his arm around her and held her close. She felt like she could melt into him.

"I was wrong, you know." His voice was low and raspy.

"Hmm?"

"Mayhaps I can give you a life, a family, if you desire it. I don't want to be parted from you again. I know I am lowborn and I have nothing to offer you, but I think I would be faithful to you. I have never been one for vows and that nonsense because I have never met a man who kept them. I believe I could keep any that I made to you..."

She sat up to look at him, "Do you mean marriage?"

"If you'd have me."

"Of course, I'd have you." She was stunned. She hadn't expected this to happen. She had childish delusions that he would want to marry her when she had been with child, but... _Duncan._..

She was suddenly taken with grief. She had lost their son. That may be too much for him. If he had changed his mind about marriage, mayhaps he had changed his mind about children. And she had lost theirs. What if he couldn't forgive her for that? She slid from the bed to sit in her chair once again. She didn't look at him, but down at her hands in her lap.

"Brienne, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm sure your father would not want you to marry the likes of me."

"That isn't it... And he would be fine with it actually."

"Then what is it?"

"Sandor, I gave birth to a son on Tarth." It just came out. She hadn't wanted to tell him, but the words had fallen from her mouth before she could stop them.

He nodded his head slowly. She had moved on. "And you married the father?"

"You are his father."

His eyes widened when he looked to her, "I have a son?"

Tears slipped from her eyes and she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I did wrong... I lost him."

"Gods Brienne." He hated that he had done that to her. He should have been more in control of himself when he was with her. Winter was no time to have a child. She shouldn't have had to be alone. He should have been there.

"I know, I'm sorry." She hadn't meant to cry, but she was.

He reached for her, pulling her back onto the bed next to him. She tried to calm herself, but she couldn't stop the sobs the rolled through her as Sandor held her close. She hadn't allowed herself this when she lost him, but here with Sandor, she couldn't stop it.

"I wanted him." She said through her tears. "I never knew I could want something so badly."

Sandor didn't have words. He wanted to give her comfort. He wanted her to know that she hadn't done anything wrong. He wanted her to know that this didn't change anything for him except that he wanted her even more. He was silenced by his own grief. He never realized how much it would hurt to lose something he hadn't even known existed. He just held her tighter.

"Could you, mayhaps, tell me about him, when you are ready?"

"He was beautiful. He had your hair and your nose." She hadn't spoken of her son to anyone since he had been buried, but it felt right to talk to him. "I tried to do everything right. I stopped spending time in the training yard as soon as I suspected I was with child. The maester told me to eat and rest. I did. I felt him moving inside me. He was so strong. And then the birth took too long. It was three days before he came. It was too long. He never even drew his first breath. I just stared at him, hoping to see life in him. I couldn't stop looking at his tiny face and praying that he would look up at me."

"I'm sorry, Brienne. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I would give anything to have been there for you."

"I believe you." She had stopped crying, but stayed close to him. "He was buried with the rest of my family. I named him Duncan."

"Duncan. Duncan Tarth or Duncan Storm?" He knew the child was a bastard, but he hoped she was given the choice to bury him with her name.

"Duncan Clegane."

"You gave him my name?" Why would anyone willingly name their son Clegane?

"I know we weren't married. I really didn't know what we were, but he was your son. He deserved to have it."

"House Clegane ends with him."

"What do you mean?"

"If you marry me, you will keep your name. If we are given any more children, they will take your name. If we defeat Cersei, I am sure the dragon bitch will allow that. She won't forget who helped put her on that throne."

Brienne laughed. "I doubt she will be accommodating if you refer to her as the Dragon Bitch."

"Well, regardless. When my brother is killed and the Clegane keep is burned to the ground, there will be no one to carry the name on. Tarth is an old name, and has an honorable history. That is what will continue."

"We will defeat Cersei."

"Once we do, we can try for another son."

"What if we have a daughter?"

"Then we will have a daughter who wields a sword even better than her mother."

"I have to return to Tarth. I told my father I would come home after this war to be his heir and take his place."

"Then we will go to Tarth. You're certain he won't kill me on sight?"

"I am fairly certain..." She looked up at him with a smile.


End file.
